


The Way Our Horizons Meet

by Kufikiria



Series: Any Time, Any Place [10]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Long-Distance Friendship, Multichapters Fic, Pen Pals, Pen Pals AU, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-05-26 00:39:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14988983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kufikiria/pseuds/Kufikiria
Summary: What started out as a prank from a friend becomes so much more than that when Jake surprisingly decides to play the game and starts exchanging letters with some Amy Santiago, an American Art History professor exiled in Paris to teach at La Sorbonne.Jake x Amy Pen Pals AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Omg, I've had this idea stuck in my head for months and... after all this time, I finally found a way to write it? The inspiration stroke one night and I haven't been able to stop thinking and writing about it since.
> 
> So much so that it's almost done now, which means the updates should be constant, with one part posted every week or so (hopefully) :) The last one being just a small epilogue (except if I'm really inspired and it turns into something bigger haha).
> 
> If you've read [No Distance Too Far](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14090802), which was a first draft of this same idea, those two stories (except for some similar details) are completely different. Jake and Amy's meeting here will be much different from the one there.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you'll like this, because I'm really enjoying writing this story :D
> 
> (Title is from Ed Sheeran's 'All of the Stars.')

In hindsight, Jake will definitely find the prank funny. He will even joke about it in his wedding vows, thanking Gina for (unexpectedly) being the one who brought him and the love of his life together and thus made this day happen, to which she'll not so humbly reply _that's what she does_.

But for now, years prior to that moment, Jake's only staring at his computer in confusion after coming back from the field and putting a new criminal behind bars.

"What's this?" he asks, turning around to face his friends and coworkers in suspicion while pointing towards the website showing on his screen, some page about pen pals and international friendships made the old-fashioned way thanking him for subscribing to the program and telling him he'll get all of his match's information in the shortest of times.

"I was bored," Gina's the one who answers him right away, not bothering to look up from her phone as she speaks. "So I signed you up for this – I thought it'd be fun, given how you always complain about hating writing letters and that it shouldn't be a thing anymore since computers have been invented. Not that I disagree with you on that."

She eventually dares look up at him, grinning; she seems rather proud of herself.

"Ha-ha, very funny." Jake, on the other end, doesn't sound too amused when he lets out a fake-laugh as a response to the civilian administrator and glares back at her in annoyance. He doesn't say more; simply sits back at his desk, not sparing any more second, searching for a way to cancel his subscription before it's too late and information too personal is sent to someone else somewhere around the globe.

He has no will of starting any kind of relationship with a stranger miles away from him – especially not _writing_ them letters and having to _read_ theirs.

He has more interesting things to do with his life that giving into such stupid activities.

" _'What was the name of your fifth-grade teacher?'_ How the hell am I supposed to remember that?" The detective grunts when he sees there's a security question he has to answer to prove his identity and thus confirm it's him who wants to delete his account and not some hacker or a mistake. "Gina! What was her name? Or… _his_ name?" He can't even recall if their teacher was a he or a she.

For his defense, this was _decades_ ago. Jake doesn't have that kind of memory. He can barely remember what he had for dinner the day before – so of course, he won't remember such a part of his childhood.

(Well, that's not entirely true. He _does_ remember what he last ate. But only because it's the same kind of takeout he so often orders at his favourite place after a long day at work.)

The point remains the same, though: there's no way the name of a teacher he had when he was a child stuck in his mind all those years later.

(He's sure that's why his friend chose this particular question as the security one, to prevent him from being able to answer it.)

"Nice try, girl," she confirms his thoughts, calling from the other side of the room. There's no way she's going to tell him that and let him put an end to her prank before the best part of it arrives. She _needs_ to read whichever letter the man will receive because of her so that she can properly mock them and that old-fashioned program. She knows it'll be hilarious.

Only fools would willingly register to such a website in an era when there are literally tons of new ways of communicating with others.

Jake doesn't seem to agree with her, though. "That's not funny anymore," he complains, pouting.

He's about to stand up, ready to reach his colleague's desk and annoy her until she gives in and shares the vital information with him (he's pretty good at it, should he say) when his Captain suddenly comes out of his office, calling him off. "Peralta! Go back to work, I want your arrest report on my desk before the end of the day!" he commands, tired of hearing him talk about his silly issue even from behind his door.

"But…" The detective is about to argue but stops in his tracks when he meets with Holt's glare, knowing better than to taunt him. He obeys then, closing the website's page and concentrating on writing his paper again instead, cursing that part of the job he hates so much, something that makes Gina grin victoriously as she watches him: _this_ is why she signed _him_ up to that pen pals thing in the first place.

He turns towards the woman, upset, and mouths at her attention, "This is not over."

As he starts working on his report with a sigh, he promises himself that he'll go on bugging her later when the day's over and they're out of the precinct.

Needless to say, he forgets about that too, when the evening's here and he's finally home and let himself fall on his bed, the only thing left on his mind being the noise his stomach makes at the view and smell of the pizza he grabbed from his favourite place in town on his way back to his apartment and is about to enjoy as a reward for having finished his paperwork in time.

The topic isn't mentioned again at the precinct the day after, or any other day after that, so Jake simply ends up forgetting about it altogether.

That is, until one night, about a week later, when he and his best friend Charles make a stop at the younger man's place before leaving for dinner and the latter spots a pile of mail on the kitchen's counter by the door. "What's that?" He points towards it, intrigued by the letter on top of them all, wrapped in a very nice envelope with Jake's address written by hand on it.

"Mail from this morning," the other cop answers with a shrug, not understand why his friend would be interested it in. "I was late and didn't have the time to put it in the mail tub." He picks up the pile.

"Mail tub?" Charles repeats, confused by the words. Jake invites him to follow him in his bathroom, where he shows him what he's talking about: a bathtub literally filled with tons of never-opened mail. He's about to throw what he holds in his hands with the rest when he's suddenly stopped before he has the chance to let go of the pile.

"Wait, not this one!" His colleague takes the letter that caught his attention earlier from the man's grasp and gives it a better look, reading what's written on the envelope. "It says it's from France. Who would send you a letter from France?" He looks up at Jake with questioning eyes, but the other doesn't seem the least interested in all of this.

"I don't know. And I don't care. I'm not gonna read it anyway."

Charles, on the other end, seems really excited about discovering the meaning of this all, especially when the realisation suddenly hits him as he's thinking of a plausible explanation to his friend receiving such a letter coming from so far away from here. The expression in his gaze switches, shining when he lays it on his partner and grinning as he speaks again.

"Wait, can it be your pen pal from that program Gina signed you up to the other day? Did you ever manage to cancel your subscription?" he asks, squealing, unable to remain still while waiting for Jake's confirmation that he never did – knowing his friend, there's a huge chance he forgot about it all.

Which seems to indeed be the case, as Charles studies him and notices how lost and confused the other man seems to be, until he eventually remembers and loses all smiles. "I did not," he acknowledges.

He pauses then, his eyes wandering over the letter with a new determination flickering inside of them. "Give it to me." He holds out his hand.

"What are you gonna do with it?" Charles asks, suspicious, keeping the letter close to his chest as if it were some kind of treasure.

"Throw it away with the rest, obviously. I don't want to have anything to do with them. I have no time to waste in writing letters and those who enjoy doing so shouldn't be trusted."

The detective seems pretty final in his decision, which makes his friend let out a high-pitched gasp hearing his harsh words. "You can't say that! What if this–…" He pauses, glancing quickly at the envelope in search of the sender's details. "–Amy Santiago from Paris is your soulmate?"

Jake rolls his eyes at that, exasperated. "First, that would really suck if my soulmate lives miles away from here. And second… she's not my soulmate, that's all! Give it to me!" he repeats, more insistent this time.

The older man quickly draws himself away, preventing the other from taking the precious piece of paper from his hands. "Well, if you won't open it, _I_ will." He carefully rips off the envelope, taking out a 3-page, double-sided introduction letter written in a very stylish handwriting and starts reading it out loud so that Jake can hear what the woman has to tell him.

_Dear Jacob,_

_It is so nice to meet you_ _…_

Charles pauses immediately, looking up at his friend with an excited beam lighting up his features. "I'm hearing wedding bells!" he can't help but comment, which owes him a glare in return. He goes on then, but soon the younger man interrupts him, not really paying attention to what his colleague might be saying, relating that stranger's words. As he made it clear before – he doesn't care.

All he cares about right now is to leave his place and have dinner, as this was their plan before this distraction came in.

"Stop. This is boring," he complains with a sigh. "And I'm hungry – so can we go eat now, please?" he pleads. Understanding that he'll never manage to change his friend's mind right now, Charles has no other choice but to agree to his demand. Before they finally leave the apartment, though, he makes sure to put the letter open back on the man's kitchen counter so that he can't miss it when he comes back.

Maybe then, with his stomach full and his mind clearer, while he's all alone at home, he'll take a look at it.

* * *

It's starting to be quite late in the night when Jake eventually comes back to his place, having ended up at Shaw's after dinner with his friend to share a few more drinks together, soon joined by the rest of their squad. He's a little bit tipsy and in a very good mood after spending some quality time in such pleasant company, with the letter incident completely forgotten again.

That is, until he lays his eyes on it when he throws his keys on his kitchen counter right beside where Charles left it last after closing his door, and lets out an annoyed sigh at the sight of it. He grabs it, ready to throw it away like he should have done from the start, but ends up falling onto his bed halfway through his course, his head aching and spinning because of the too many beers he downed earlier at the bar.

He remains like this, sitting at the edge of his mattress and staring at the pieces of paper in his hand for who knows how long, not really paying attention to it and rather lost in his thoughts, until his eyes lay on the beginning of the letter and the neatly written 'Dear Jacob.' Suddenly, unexpectedly, he kind of feels drawn to it, opening it completely so that he can see it all.

He looks around, as if to make sure he's all alone and nobody can see him, then once he's reassured no one (especially not Charles) will appear out of nowhere from a corner of his apartment and catch him in the act, bothering him with talks about soulmates and _'I knew you'd do it eventually,'_ he starts reading, telling himself this is just his drunk-self acting curious.

Quickly though, he has to admit this Amy woman is really good with words – her letter might be long, but it's written in a way it doesn't bother him – on the contrary, even; it's pretty entertaining, making him let out a chuckle or two here and there, gasping also sometimes at the small parts of her life she's agreed on sharing with him in this first introduction of herself.

She mostly talks about how thrilled she is to start this exchange, telling him her thoughts on what a great idea it is to come back to communicating the old-fashioned way, when smartphones and computers didn't exist and people had to wait for days before receiving an answer instead of the instantaneity the world of today offers, then briefly introducing herself.

Jake learns that his pen pal is originally from the United States as well, but was sent to Paris to teach at La Sorbonne for six months – which turned into three years, in the end, and still counting – because she's an Art History professor, and apparently pretty good at it, with huge ambitions for her future in the teaching department that she's well-determined to reach.

For several paragraphs following this explanation she writes about her job, and it quickly becomes clear to him that she's passionate about it. Something the detective can finally relate with, having a very poor knowledge in Art History – the only art teacher he knows is his mother, who teaches to kids, not at the university; he's pretty sure the two are pretty different, then.

He _does_ understand her loving what she does so much, though, since he gets to practise his dream job, having wanted to be a cop since childhood. He couldn't imagine himself doing anything else.

Amy doesn't relate too much of her personal life otherwise, probably keeping those pieces of information for later exchanges, when she learns to know her pen pal better and is sure she can trust him in sharing them with him. But she does ask questions about his own life, which are actually pretty strange ones for starting a conversation with someone you don't know.

(For any kind of conversation at all, to be honest.)

_Could you confirm that you are not a 45-year-old prisoner and that you will not ask me to pay your bail?_

_You do not have any sibling you hate so much you want to seek revenge on them and are looking for help in doing so, right?_

Jake frowns as he reads them until it becomes clearer why she's asking this when she shares the bad experience she had as a kid with the first (and only, before him) pen pal she ever had. She doesn't go deep into the details but from the little she writes about it, it already seems like a dark story – no doubt she'd be quite cautious with this new person she's engaging a conversation with, then.

(In all honesty, she caught his attention with that, and he finds himself wishing he'd hear the downfall of it all.)

He wonders why she decided to give that sort of programs another chance then. Given the pretty excited vibes she sends off only from the way she wrote her letter, there's no way that, just like him, she got dared to do it again (and it would have been quite the coincidence, had it been the case, that two poor souls fooled by their friends were paired together anyway).

( _Or destiny,_ Charles's voice comes into his mind as he thinks of it, which he quickly dismisses with a shake of his head, making him wince in pain as his headache strikes again with the gesture.)

She definitely _chose_ to try again – and he truly can't see why someone would desire to take part in such a stupid program so much, especially after such a first failure.

_You could ask her,_ the voice inside his head pops up again but he quickly chases it away once more. There's _no way_ he's going to answer her. Sure, what he considered as 'boring' earlier might have turned into something surprisingly interesting and even fun to the detective, proof is his inability to detach his gaze from the letter before he's done reading it in its entirety, this Amy person having intrigued him, but still.

Never will he ever write one of his own and take part in this dorky game – _'dork'_ being indeed the first word that comes to him when he eventually puts the mail away on his tiny, already full of different knick-knacks, bedside table and he lets himself completely fall on his bed, not bothering changing clothes when he tucks himself into bed, feeling the exhaustion finally taking over him.

* * *

The detective is 15 minutes late when he arrives at his morning briefing the next day, summoning his Captain's wrath along the way. He slept through his alarm, after waking up in the middle of the night and being unable to go back to sleep for a long time, one disturbing, unwelcomed thought keeping his mind awake: that not answering Amy would mean he'd turn her second pen pal experience into another failure.

He truly shouldn't care about that – after all, he doesn't know the woman and thus, isn't accountable of her –, but the truth is, laying in the middle of his bed with his eyes wide open in the dark of the room and still a bit drunk from his evening out, he  _did_ care. So much so that it prevented him from getting some rest for most of the night.

He cursed Charles a lot, during that time. Charles and his stupid romantic views and conception of love and soulmates. Jake  _knew_ he should have never let him open that letter and simply thrown it away with the rest of his mail like he always does, never to be thought about again. He knows he should have resisted the temptation and never let his drunk-self read it.

But the fact is he has, and even now that he's at work, heads down into some report he has to write, he still can't help but have the thought lingering into his mind.

_You're going to hurt her._

Especially when of course Gina chooses this day to remind him of her prank, asking him if he's received a letter yet. The timing couldn't be worse.

"Which letter?" The man pretends he doesn't know what she's talking about, barely looking at her as he speaks, his whole attention put on his computer and the job he has to do.

(Under other circumstances, he'd be  _thrilled_ to have some distraction from it – but not right now, and surely not  _her_ and her demands.)

"Your pen pal letter. Remember, the website I signed you in the other day? It must have arrived by now. And if it did, you need to let me read it. I wanna make fun of whoever you got paired with – must be really fun to read someone being all excited about such a nerdy program."

"Oh, that." Jake takes a short pause, stopping writing on his keyboard before answering with a shrug, turning away to look at the woman by his side. "I don't know, I had forgotten about this. I must have thrown it away in the mail tub with the rest of my mail like I always do – I never pay attention to it," he surprisingly lies without even a blink.

For some reason, the idea of her reading the letter and mocking Amy for it makes him very uncomfortable.

(Even if  _he_ did mock her a little when he read it himself, he has to admit – always in a nice way, though. Which he's not sure is Gina's intention.)

The civilian administrator only frowns in return, wrinkling in disgust at the man's words and not really understanding what he means with them. "The mail tub?"

"That's a real thing, I saw it, and it's pretty terrifying," Charles suddenly jumps into the conversation between the two from behind his own desk facing Jake's, backing up the other cop. "You do  _not_ want to search for anything inside of it, trust me." He winks at his friend, and it's all Gina needs to know to give up, though a bit disappointed that her prank didn't work out the way she wanted.

"Nevermind," she says with a sigh as she goes back to her own desk. "I suppose I'll just have to find some other occupation."

In no time, her whole attention is drawn back to her phone.

Jake thinks this is all over, and he's going to be able to forget about this whole letter situation for good now, but his partner seems to have other plans for him on his mind.

"Soooo… you just 'threw it away in the mail tub' and didn't pay attention to it, huh? Why did you lie to Gina?" Charles gets closer to him, making himself comfortable on Jake's desk by putting his elbow on it and resting his head on his open palm, waiting for his friend to answer him and share his story. He has a feeling it'll be quite interesting.

"I didn't lie to her," the other detective tries to defend himself. "The only person who paid attention to it was  _you_ , and I did throw it away as soon as I came back home yesterday," he lies again.

"Jake…" The older man insists, though, not buying his excuse and giving him a daring look. Jake knows he'll never hear the end of this if he doesn't tell his friend what he wants to hear, that's why he gives in with a long, desperate sigh. He looks around to be sure no one's listening before he speaks again in a secret whisper.

"Okay, fine. I did read it after all."

"I knew it!" Charles squeals, waving his hands in the air in victory, and his partner's eyes grow bigger, trying to make him shush so that he doesn't draw everyone's attention on them.

"Calm down, Charles. I just read a letter, that's no big deal."

"Tell me that when you guys start exchanging romantic love letters," he snaps back, his excitation hard to contain. "Did you like what you read? Did you answer her?!" He wants to know everything.

Jake sighs again, already regretting sharing this information with his best friend. A small smile comes curling up the sides of his mouth when he admits, though, remembering the woman's written words, "It was less boring than I thought it would be, yes. But that's all. I'm not gonna answer her."

"Why not?" he pushes him once more.

"Because I don't want to. There's no fun in writing letters."

But he doesn't sound so persuasive – even his colleague can tell that. That's why he eventually leaves him alone, still beaming brightly, and goes back to work. Jake wants to do the same but, with all these talks about Amy, the woman's explanation of how her first pen pal experience turned out to be skyrockets back into his mind as soon as silence is surrounding him again.

_Third time's the charm,_ he tries to reassure himself – she'll have more luck with the next person she reaches out. ( _If_ she decides to give a third person a chance, after being let down by the previous two. Maybe she'll just give up altogether because of him.)

Well, at least she'll only think of him as a jerk for not answering her, he tells himself. Not a complete freak who scared the hell out of her younger self and traumatized her – though still not enough to prevent her from trying again years later as an adult, apparently. Plus maybe she'll just think he did write her something back, but his letter got lost in the mail.

Such things can happen, after all, he searches for excuses; but it only brings out more questions: what if she writes him again to know what's going on, in this case?

The detective shakes his head, forcing all of these worrying thoughts away. He owes this stranger nothing – thus he doesn't need no excuses for his behaviour.

If anything, her possible _(probable)_ disappointment will be Gina's fault. She's the one who signed him up to this program and shared his information, after all – he didn't mean to know this Amy. He didn't mean to be in any part of her life, or anyone else on this dumb website's life, for that matters.

He doesn't need more friends; he's more than happy with the ones he has here, in New York. Some real presence by his side he can _see_ and  _talk_ with, not just words on a piece of paper.

At least, that's what he repeats himself as he tries to concentrate back on his boring paperwork – another example of why this way of communicating isn't made for him.

* * *

He can't. No matter what and how hard he tries, Jake can't bring himself to write his damn report, stuck in front of a blank page – except for some sentences he managed to put together here and there filling it, a poor beginning – for far longer than he should have been. That's why, praying for inspiration to strike all of a sudden, he opens a new sheet and starts writing what first comes to his mind, without thinking.

_Dear Amy,_

_It's really nice to meet you too._

He shouldn't be surprised, really, that  _these_ are the words he types, given what's been on his mind since the moment he woke up in the middle of the night. He looks at them, reads and reads them again several times, following sentences starting to repeat themselves in his head as he does so. Guess he's going to do it, after all. He's going to let his guilt beat him and write her back.

But, if he's going to do it, there's  _no way_ he's going to  _hand_ write it. Computers have been invented for a reason and he damn well intends to use his. He'll simply print the letter once it's done and send it through the mail this way, he decides. Plus, if he changes his mind halfway through it, he'll just have to close the page without registering it and there will be no trace left anywhere.

No one will ever know.

After writing this first sentence, Jake stares at his screen for a moment, thinking about what he could say next. For sure his answer won't be as long as Amy's introduction letter: though Jake can easily find topics to talk about for hours without a single break, he's never as much inspired – and skilled – when it comes to writing things down. His style definitely isn't as smooth and entertaining as the woman's.

In the end, he chooses not to think this through too much and simply let his inspiration go, seeing as it goes which path it takes him down.

_But please call me Jake. Everyone calls me Jake, I even forget my real name's Jacob, sometimes. It sounds weird. Well, actually, not everyone calls me Jake – my grandma calls me Piñeapples, but it's only her._

He has to stop again very soon, though, contemplating his last sentence before choosing to erase it. This is probably not the kind of information he should share on a first exchange, kind of embarrassing. He sighs, already feeling defeated and wondering why he's doing this. When he talks, he doesn't have the time to think and take things back.

When he says something, he can't tell if it's dumb or not before it's too late. And it's better this way.

Because there's too much to think about when he writes – endless possibilities to second-guess everything when he can actually see and read through his words. That's why he eventually decides not to pay attention to his screen anymore, his gaze stuck on his hands working on his keyboards as he lets out everything he wants to share – cop stories, for the most part, after he quickly introduces himself.

That's the topic he masters the most, after all.

When he's done, he's proudly surprised to see he managed to write almost a 1-page letter when he finally looks back up at his computer's screen. He doesn't dare to proofread it, though; otherwise, he knows he'll just delete everything – and bore himself to death, too. He's sure he left out some mistakes and made-up words, but he doesn't really care.

That's who he is, after all. Amy better get used to it from the start, if she wants to become his friend.

The thought startles him, making him realise that he's actually doing it –  _for realz_. Despite all of his better instincts, he's going to send her a letter back – willing to start a friendship.

He's no fool, though. He knows it won't last long. He's pretty certain the rush of adrenaline he's feeling right now, as he stands up from his desk and rushes towards to printer to pick the piece of paper up before anyone else can lay an eye on it, won't last. He's sure they won't exchange more than three, maybe four, letters before he gets tired of it already.

He's persuaded it's just a whim, that will fade away at the same time as the guilt about making Amy's second experience with a pen pal another disaster will. He's convinced of that…

Thinking of her past dealing with such a program suddenly makes Jake realise he forgot to answer the woman's questions in his own letter. He takes out a pen from his desk then and starts writing in his messy, not the least straight handwriting at the foot of the page –

_P.S.: I'm an only child and I'm the one putting people behind bars, not the other way around :)_

Now completely satisfied, he carefully puts the letter away to send it later on his way back home and finally put his whole attention back on his work with his mind at ease, a new rush of inspiration striking him.

* * *

Jake didn't know that posting a letter could be that much exciting. Or at least, had forgotten, as the only ones he sends now are work– or bills-related.

Nothing to be thrilled about, then – quite the opposite.

Last time he remembers feeling this was about sending some mail was years ago when he was away on holidays with his mother and his aunt Linda after spending the past summers stuck in New York, and he sent his father a postcard telling him of all the fun activities they were doing during their vacation.

_Today we visited an aquarium. Mommy says the turtles we saw were Graham Crackers and his family – can you believe it, Daddy?!_

_I wish you were here with us. You could have helped me build the sand castle I did. We even had ice cream!_

_See you soon. I love you._

_–Jake_

And his excitement didn't last long, at the time, soon turning into sadness when the man never answered, the hole created in his heart when he left growing even bigger. Back then, Jake  _did_ convince himself that there had been a problem with the mail and his father actually never received his card – the reason why he couldn't reply.

Reminiscing about this moment makes him pause for an instant, his letter still in his hand and ready to be sent, wondering. What if Amy doesn't like what she reads? What if she thinks he's not worth it and decides she doesn't want to reach him again in return to his own message? How is he gonna react, then, if he ends up being the one left out by his pen pal?

Being abandoned by someone again?

Probably not too well…

All of a sudden, he's not so excited anymore and almost ends up ripping the piece of paper off and throwing it away, feeling stupid for having giving into the activity for a while. Thankfully, though, he manages to regain some composure before he has the chance to do something he would have definitely ended up regretting doing and, with a long sigh and closing his eyes, he finally does it.

He sends his own answer through the mail.

(So much for someone who wouldn't even open Amy's envelope in the first place… She better be worth it, he thinks.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos on the 1st chapter! I hope you'll like this 2nd one, more centred around Amy this time. Don't hesitate to tell me what you think of it please :3

When Amy first landed in Paris three years ago, she would have never imagined staying there for as long as she's been since. She was supposed to remain in the French capital for one semester only, teaching Art History to students from La Sorbonne for six months, a true opportunity that would most likely boost her career and help her achieve her dreams.

But then, as summer was approaching and she was about to come back home, the academic year and its final exams being almost over, she was offered a permanent job in the prestigious university because of her talents and hard work and her plans got completely switched. She couldn't refuse such a huge offer. But, as she signed her new contract, she swore she'd come back to the United States, at some point.

It's been three years now, and that point hasn't arrived yet – she hasn't missed it so much as to move back to her country already.

Indeed, though getting to live in a whole new country where she didn't even speak nor understand the language (well, she  _had_  started to learn the basics as soon as she'd been offered the job, but it was still not enough to perfect it) was complicated at first and she often felt rather alone, she's now very content with her life, perfectly fluent in French and surrounded with a bunch of new friends – including her roommate, Rosa, another originally US-resident exiled in Paris for some vague reasons; she never told Amy what they were, the woman being very private about her personal life.

(Something about following her fiancé, who wasn't safe in America any longer, in the City of Light, the professor managed to gather some information here and there during the course of their shared existence and put the pieces together, though she's not sure this is the whole story, nor why the man was in danger in the first place – fiancé she's not even with anymore, now, hence the need of a roommate.)

Still, the idea of reaching out to new people elsewhere around the globe occurs to her mind one day, inspired by the emails she weekly exchanges with her family or friends from home (or should she say,  _friend_ , as there's mostly one of her acquaintances she can consider as such and truly keeps up with – her best friend Kylie.)

While updating them about her life and asking for news about what's going on in theirs, her fingers energetically typing on her keyboard, eager of sharing everything relatively interesting that happened during the past days with them, she remembers the program she used to be part of as a child that paired her up with a guy from Thailand, so that they could communicate together through letters.

And, though it ended really badly when the time came for them to meet, it still was a pretty thrilling experience, getting to know someone from so far away, exchanging about their very different lifestyles.

She'd often look up at her globe while writing him, sitting at her desk in the room she shared with her younger brother, her little legs hanging and absentmindedly kicking in their air, too small to touch the floor just yet. There, in the quietness of the place (she always chose times when she was alone to write her pen pal back so that her sibling wouldn't disturb and annoy her with it), she'd pause to think for a moment and stare at the globe for a while, dreamily making it turn with her finger as she watched in awe the long journey her piece of paper would go on to reach her friend once it was done and sent through the mail.

It truly amazed her, back then, knowing that she was able to communicate with someone miles away from her like this.

Thinking about it again, she kind of misses the excitement that came with the whole concept of having a pen pal. And, now that she's an adult – and that the Internet has developed in so many ways since the last time she tried –, she's sure she can find some new safer website that will allow her not to get fooled again by a fraud and go through the same hell she did all those years ago.

That's how she ends up, one Sunday afternoon, after having thought this through for a whole week, making a list of the pros and cons of subscribing again to such a program, reading reviews about different websites of the genre, in search of the best one of them all – if she's doing this, she wants to do it  _right_.

She's all alone in the apartment, Rosa having left to meet with her new girlfriend (or so Amy thinks, since her roommate's not the kind to share her whereabouts with her – or anybody, for that matters –, but she heard her laugh while on the phone before hanging out with whoever she was talking to with an  _'I'm on my way'_  before leaving – a sound she's only heard when she's with her.)

(She met her once when she came back home unexpectedly early from work and found the two lovers curled up on the couch, watching some TV, and the stranger had to introduce herself to her, then. "I'm Alicia, Rosa's girlfriend," she said and, while they were shaking hands, the professor could swear she saw the other woman blush and smile behind them at the use of the term 'girlfriend' by her guest.)

She has no one to bother her in her task then and, after a while, she finally finds what she believes is  _the_  most appropriate website for what she wants. She doesn't spare any more second to sign up to the program, writing down all the required information – some questions about her interests so that an algorithm can match her with someone showing a similar profile afterwards.

It's different from what she was used to, but she likes it. At least, this way, she's sure the person she'll be exchanging letters with will have things in common with her, and it'll be easier to start a conversation, while still keeping a part of a mystery. Indeed, only your most basic information is shared with this other person: your name, country, (mandatory) profile picture and of course, address where to reach them.

It's up to you to discover your and your match's similarities afterwards, and it sounds pretty thrilling, if you ask Amy.

Her heart starts pounding with excitement in her chest when she reads the automatic message telling her that her subscription has been completed and that she'll receive her match's contacts details in the shortest of times appears on her screen, not so patiently waiting for a new notification to pop up on her profile's inbox from the website itself. Thankfully, just as it said, it doesn't take long to arrive.

But, just when the woman quickly opens it and is faced with some man's face, she doesn't have the time to look at him that Rosa suddenly enters the apartment, startling her roommate, who immediately closes her laptop on instinct. She doesn't want her friend to see what she's doing – knowing her, she'll find her idea dumb for sure.

Unfortunately for the professor, no matter how fast she tried to be, her gesture didn't go unnoticed by the other, who's now looking at her with a suspicious glint in her eyes. "What are you doing?" She nods towards Amy's laptop, that she's keeping close to her heart, fiercely holding onto it as if to protect it.

"Nurthing." The woman is quick –  _too_  quick, maybe – to reply, which only makes Rosa more curious, getting closer and sitting on the couch next to her, forcing Amy to scoot away a little.

"What are you hiding? You're hiding something," she insists, not buying the professor's words.

"Why? Because I said 'nurthing?' I say that all the time," she tries to defend herself, feeling her cheeks turning redder and redder by the second.

"No, you don't."

Then, without a warning, Rosa leans over and takes the laptop from her roommate's hands, opening it again. In front of her eyes appears the website the other woman was looking at before she arrived and for a moment, she stares at it in complete silence, frowning in confusion while looking at the man's picture showing back on the screen.

"'MyPenPal.com?'" she reads. "What is that? A dating site for nerd people?" She turns away to glance at her friend, an amused smile now lighting her features.

"It's not… a dating site," Amy answers as she takes back what's hers, still blushing from embarrassment. "It's just made for people who want to connect with other people from around the world, sending letters to learn to know each other better. Make new  _friends_ ," she explains, insisting on the last word.

"Why would you bother to do that? If you're so desperate and in need of friends, there are other ways on the Internet. Or a good bar."

"Well, some people still like handwriting things and communicate the old-fashioned way. There's something very exciting about going back to a time when we didn't get everything instantly and experience what it was like, having to actually wait for an answer." Amy tries to make her see her view of the thing, but Rosa still doesn't seem to get it at all.

"That's dumb." She only shrugs in return. "But anyways, that guy seems fine." She points in direction of the picture of her match before she eventually leaves the professor's side, having had enough of this conversation already and joining her own room to be at peace.

Now all alone again, following her friend's words, the woman allows herself to finally take a deeper look at the picture, studying it carefully. It doesn't bring the man, who seems to be around her age, out too much – it's been taken from way too close, a little blurry, and it appears like he wasn't even aware someone was taking a cliché of him – but even despite that, he  _does_  look fine indeed.

Not that this fact should be taken into account in Amy's judgment of her future pen pal; as she told Rosa, she's not doing this to find someone.

Especially not when this someone lives… She looks at his information to find his localisation – the United States. As in, miles away from her and a whole ocean apart.

(Her  _home_  country, too, where she's always told herself she'd come back someday, when the right time comes – but still, her point remains the same.  _This_  is not what she wants.)

The only important physical trait about him is that he doesn't seem like a 45-year-old prisoner who's in search of somebody to pay his bail and help him seek revenge on his brother. Truly, that's all that matters to her. She can't help but stare a bit longer at his cute, curly raven hair and his shining brown eyes matching his huge, amused grin, though.

He gives out a good, friendly vibe, Amy decides, smiling back at his picture.

Then, when she's done with her inspection, she lets her gaze switch from his face to his name written below: Jacob Peralta. "Well, hello, Jacob Peralta. Nice to meet you," she whispers as if it's going to answer her, her eyes back on his. After that, she doesn't waste any more second, leaving the living room to join her own, where she sits at her desk and takes some paper from a drawer and a pen.

She starts writing down (almost) the same words she just let out a moment before –

_Dear Jacob,_

_It is so nice to meet you…_

And, as she lets her inspiration go, introducing herself to her new pen pal and talking about the benefits of such a program, she feels like a 10-year-old again – and damn, how thrilling does it feel.

* * *

It's a Wednesday afternoon, about a week and a half after she sent her own letter, that Amy receives an answer to it. When she comes back from work, just like she does every evening, she checks her mailbox in the entrance of the building before going up to her apartment on the 3rd floor. It doesn't catch her eye right away – contrary to her, Jacob used a basic envelope that can't be distinguished from the other letters.

It's only when she starts going through her mail as she climbs up the stairs that she recognises the name on the address. This sight only is enough to make her heartbeat fasten in her chest, feeling the excitement already building up in her whole body as a huge beam curls up the corners of her mouth and she picks up her pace to reach her home quicker so that she can read it the sooner possible.

Once she's finally passed the front door, the woman still takes the time to properly put aside the rest of the mail and greet her roommate before she joins her room, locking herself inside and sitting on her bed. She takes a moment to give a better look at the closed letter before she can't keep it any longer and eventually opens it.

Her grin drops a little when she notices it's not handwritten, her excitement slightly fading away at the realisation – she can't help but feel a little disappointed in her pen pal for not playing the game entirely. It doesn't give too good an impression of him – he must be lazy if he wouldn't dare to handwrite it – but she tries not to let her mind linger too much on this first impression and give him a chance.

Thankfully, her smile is back as soon as she reads the first sentence.

_Dear Amy,_

_It's nice to meet you too. But please, call me Jake. Everyone calls me Jake, I even forget my real name's Jacob, sometimes. It sounds weird._

The professor frowns and shakes her head, quickly back to being judgmental of the stranger – how could one forget about their own name?! This makes no sense to her. Nonetheless, she persists in her reading. She cringes when she spots one, then several spelling errors in his letter, feeling the sudden urge to correct them all, but fights her better instinct and forces herself to finish discovering what he has to tell her.

If his style isn't too good for now maybe at least the content will be interesting enough to make up for it – after all, he's her  _match_. Which means they probably have a lot in common.

It's not much – nothing, even, in comparison to her 3-page, double-sided,  _handwritten_  piece of paper she took the time to write –, but, as she goes on, she eventually relaxes, finding herself smiling at his stories sometimes and even letting out a real chuckle – while still rolling her eyes, though – when she reads his P.S. note at the end of his message.

He doesn't seem so bad, then, she tells herself when she rapidly goes over the whole letter one more time just to be sure she didn't miss anything, the excitement finally back in her core, taking over the disappointment she might have felt when she first started her discovery of this man from the other side of the ocean. She doesn't quite understand why the website matched them, though, now that she's done.

Because they do  _not_  seem to have much in common – or at least she can't see it yet.

Well, it's not entirely true. He's a cop – something he talked about  _a lot_  in the little number of words he wrote, as if it were the main characteristic describing him – and she, too, almost became one before deciding against it and pursuing her career in Art History, becoming a professor instead. She lives with one, Rosa being a cop as well. And even her own father used to be one before he retired.

So, she can at least relate to that.

But that's probably all – while he easily comes out to her as messy and forgetful (what the little last-minute note added at the foot of the page in his messy and hard to decipher handwriting brings out of him), she's pretty neat and organised. Plus, contrary to her, he doesn't seem very serious, nor does he appear to take this exchange very seriously and be as excited as she is about their written encounter.

This Jake guy isn't really the type of pen pal she dreamed of, then – and Amy had the time to dream about him a lot, during the past week and a half, fantasizing about the perfect match, a friend who would understand her and her passions, someone she could relate with even if separated by miles and an ocean. But if an  _algorithm_  paired them up, this means it can't be a mistake, she reminds herself.

This means he  _is_  the perfect match for her, out of the thousands of other people who signed up to that website. It's only their first exchange – it wouldn't be right to judge him on that.

It'll probably get better with time, as they learn more about each other and get more comfortable around one another – a thought that reassures her immediately.

That's why, even though she can't answer him right away as she has some work to do, she promises herself she'll do it as soon as she's done with the preparation of her classes for the next day.

* * *

Her second letter ends up being way shorter than the first. It's still more than a page long, but now that they introduced themselves, writing mainly about their very different jobs, Amy doesn't quite know how to engage in a conversation that could bring up new topics they could share opinions about and thus learn more about the other without being too personal already.

She knows the beginning of a friendship can be a little awkward sometimes, opening up to each other little by little – and even more so when they're exchanging letters.

That's why she starts with jumping on his words about being a cop, telling him about her own will of becoming one at some point in her life and how she didn't eventually, about Rosa and her father, about how she liked his entertaining stories, asking for more details about some of the juiciest anecdotes –  _You really arrested a man named Sylvester Stools?!_  

She then asks him about his mother and her own job as an art teacher, and what's his father's job, since he didn't mention him.

In return to the excitement he showed about her living in Paris, she asks him about New York. How it is to live there, what he likes best about the city. Tells him about the several trips she took there when she was still living in the United States and how she particularly loved the museums and the Brooklyn bridge – which leads her up to want to know which part of the city he lives in.

It's all pretty much basic information, but it's all she can come up with for now, not wanting to get too close yet, the shadow of the Mongkut disaster still hovering over her – she doesn't want to repeat the same mistakes. She tries to remain positive and forget about what made her cringe when she first discovered his letter and only concentrate on the good parts, making the best of them.

Finally, when she goes through his words one more time, in search of something else to say, she finds  _it_  – something she can give her own opinion back, the reason why he's so interested in her location.

_Paris sounds so cool!_ he wrote her.  _That's where Jason Bourne went on a chase with the cops and drove a car down some stairs! So dope. Though these movies will never beat the greatness of the Die Hard movies. Best cop movie by far – best movie ever, even. I watched them all so many times._

He couldn't be more wrong, she thinks, shaking her head as she puts the letter aside and goes back to her own, taking her pen back in her hand to write her answer down.  _As for your comment about Die Hard being the best cop movie, excuse me?!_ She doesn't wait to let him know of her own thoughts.  _Have you ever seen Training Day, at least?! That's the best cop movie ever._

When she's done with her piece, she re-reads it one last time, sighting with contentment and a small smile lighting up her face: the excited feeling is back, and she's rather proud of herself; she managed to keep things casual enough for a second exchange while asking the right questions that will help her learn more about her new friend and keep the conversation going easily, she thinks.

Happy with herself, Amy eventually carefully puts her letter inside an envelope and puts it away in her drawer not to damage it before she turns the light by her desk off and goes to sleep. She lets out a gasp when she checks the time: it's past midnight already. She completely lost track of it when she was writing and now, she's way past her bedtime (not that she really has one).

(She definitely has, to keep with a decent sleeping schedule – something really important to be able to affront the following day, according to her.)

But at least, when she tucks herself inside her covers, she has a beam spreading across her face that doesn't want to leave her features, and she truly doesn't mind putting her alarm five minutes sooner than usual despite all of this, so that she'll have the possibility to mail her letter on her road to the university as soon as the next day comes – she doesn't have the patience to wait any longer.

* * *

It starts with an argument over which cop movie is the best –  _For the last time, Jake, the top 3 best cop movies of all times, by order, is: Training Day, Lethal Weapon, and then Fargo. No Die Hard!_

_How could I have been paired with someone who doesn't like Die Hard? I want a refund!!!_

_You didn't pay to sign up for the program. And it's not that I don't like those movies – I never saw them, actually. But I already know they're not my type, thus will never make my top 3._

_I don't want to talk to you ever again._

– which lasts for at least four exchanges of letters until Amy agrees to give Die Hard a chance someday then quickly, not really knowing how, nor when exactly it happens over the course of the several weeks of letters they send to each other, in weekly conversations about absolutely everything and anything going on in their lives at the moment, getting more and more personal each time as they learn to know and appreciate the other.

Amy's always looking forward to that moment of the week when she'll be able to sit at her desk and read her friend's  _written_  words – he's making the effort, now. The first time she received a handwritten letter from him without even asking for it (she  _did_  tell him what she thought of handwriting a letter when he asked her why she didn't just type it on her computer then printed it out once), she literally squealed on her seat – though, to be fair, it was way easier to understand him when he typed his words on a computer himself; his handwriting is really messy – but she's starting to get used to it and quite good at deciphering it.

It rapidly, and truly, becomes the highlight of the woman's week and, no matter how good or bad her day was before she receives and opens his letter, Jake  _always_  manages to bring a smile on her face with his stories, and more times than none even a hearted laugh. This doesn't go unnoticed by her roommate, who can easily tell when Amy's pen pal reach her through the mail and even  _hear_  her from the chuckles resonating through the thin walls between their two rooms. Of course, she doesn't wait to tease her about it, still not seeing what's so good about communicating this way.

Amy finds her one evening with a letter in her hands when she comes back from work, staring curiously at it.

"What's this?" she asks, nodding towards the envelope.

"Seems like your friend's early this week," Rosa answers without looking up, an amused grin on her face.

Her roommate is quick to reach her and take it from her hands, suddenly feeling both excited and worried. She takes a deep look at the piece of paper, before putting her attention back on the other woman, frowning. "You didn't read it, did you?"

Of course, Rosa didn't – it's not her style to invade people's privacy when she's so against others invading her own, plus she truly couldn't care less about what this guy has to tell her friend –, but Amy's reaction amuses her greatly, that's why she asks, teasing her, "Why? There are dirty things I shouldn't read about in it?"

Instantly, the professor's cheeks turn red as her skin start to burn in a blush. "Oh my God, Rosa!" she gasps when she understands what she means, letting out a loud gasp in shock. "This is not the kind of relationship we have! He's just my friend. We're not… together." Her heart flips at the mention of it and she can feel her cheeks redden even more.

Sure, the two grew really close over the months of talking to each other, but they share nothing more than just a genuine friendship. There's nothing more to read into their letters other than  _friendly_  banter and talks about their lives.

"If you say so," Rosa only replies with a shake of her head, not really convinced. She doesn't insist more, though, and simply turns on the TV, putting her whole attention on what's happening on the screen, leaving Amy the chance to gain her own room so that she can read what Jake has to tell her, curious to know why he's sending her a new letter before her own got the chance to reach him yet.

It's very short, only a few words written down quickly, that makes Amy frown in confusion when she reads them.

_Ames!_  (He's started to call her 'Ames' a while ago now and the woman has to admit, she's really fond of the pet name.)  _You should check my profile on the website again. I updated my photo. I didn't know it was this one – it's a much better one now ;) (P.S.: yours isn't too bad either.)_

That last comment makes the blush she was wearing on her cheeks come back again, Rosa's words repeating themselves in her head before she soon chases them away. Nope, there's truly nothing to read into their exchanges. Plus, something else interests her more right now: what does he mean, he didn't know the one picture she saw of him when they got matched was this one?

And, though she appreciates the compliment – why tell her only today? Did he never check her profile before, and thus didn't know what she looks like?

So many questions she carefully keeps in the back of her head, to ask later at the same time as he answers her last letter – another thing that troubles her, the fact that he felt the urge of sending her a whole new message to share this information with her instead of simply waiting for a few more days, especially when he told her so many times in the past how broke he is and knowing that stamps to send letters to another country can be quite expensive.

In the meantime, she puts aside the piece of paper for a minute, opening her laptop and logging on her pen pal website, curious. She goes straight to Jake's profile like he told her so and can see that he did change his picture, opting for a much better one indeed – a simple, more serious selfie of himself smiling at the camera.

Just like the first time, she studies him for a while, smiling back at the beam he's wearing on his still face, showing his dimples, and her heart clenches in her chest. This is a strange feeling, seeing him again, now that she  _knows_  him like she does. She never went back to check on his profile, ever since they started talking, keeping only this one time she saw his picture in mind to imagine him while writing him.

She didn't try to 'stalk' him on any other social media either, for that matters – and apparently, neither did he.

The woman quickly forces herself to stop staring and close her browser, taking a piece of paper out of her drawer instead to write out her questions, so that she wouldn't forget later, when she's too caught up in telling him about her week and playfully arguing over yet another topic like they're used to, to remember his second letter.

_How come you didn't know which picture was used as your profile? You're supposed to be the one choosing it. Does this mean in all those weeks we talked, you didn't know what I looked like?_

(Later, when she's done with writing her letter back to him, after one last glance at his profile picture showing on her open laptop next to her with a little smile, she can't help but add –

_P.S.: You're right. This new picture is much better. Though the first one really let out your personality – I liked it._ )

* * *

The explanation she gets a week later, along with the rest of their usual conversations, isn't really what Amy expected to read.

_To be honest, I'm not the one who came up with the idea of signing up for the program. Gina pranked me into doing it. And, since it's confession time, I almost never answered your letter. If it weren't for Charles, I would have never seen it in the first place. But I'm truly glad I did, finally. I'm glad I got to meet you._   _You're a true friend, Ames, so that's why I wanted you to know._

_I hope this won't upset you too much… And no, I didn't know what you looked like. Only imagined. But now I do._

_P.S.: I'm glad you like my pic :)_

She takes a moment to look at it, processing what she just learnt, and something inside of her breaks – she feels somehow hurt, betrayed. She knows she shouldn't take the news as badly as she is, but she can't help but think their friendship started off with a lie, and it disappoints her.  _A prank._  That program was just a joke for him.

_She_  was no more than just a joke – a game, even – for him at the beginning. No matter what he may say – that she's his friend, and he's glad he started talking to her – she still feels hurt.

That's why, for once, she doesn't reply right away, wanting to forget about all of this for now.

* * *

It takes her a few days of thinking but, in the end, Amy forgives him. After all, she  _does_  consider him as a friend as well, and she quickly feels the urge of telling him about her life again, when she's walking back home one night and passes in front of one of the places Jason Bourne passed by with his car during his chase in his movie, reminding her of one of their first exchanges with a dreamy smile.

Who cares about what his first impression of her was? If she thinks about it, her own wasn't too good either, and she could have decided not to go on with their exchanges as well. Which she didn't, and is just as glad as he is that she changed her own mind about him too. That's why, as soon as she's back in her apartment, the woman takes a pen and piece of paper and starts writing him back.

_Well… I won't lie, I was a bit disappointed at first. But I'm happy you eventually changed your mind because I really am glad I got to meet you and call you a friend too._

_So? Do I meet your expectancies? Or were you expecting someone else?_ She finishes her answer with some questions, curious about the way he saw her before he actually got to see her picture.

* * *

The moment she receives his new answer, she understands she made the right choice, the excitement she's been feeling for months now, every time she'd received a letter from him, building back up in her chest and warming her heart as a smile spreads across her face, never leaving her features the whole time she reads his words – he truly knows how to make her life better, even when living miles away from her.

_You always made me think of that girl from that TV show, One Day At A Time, Elena. You know, that smart (and slightly annoying…) girl. So I always pictured you as an older version of her in my mind, which wasn't too far away from reality, finally. Though you don't wear glasses. And I don't think Elena would appreciate such a way of communicating. Like, you know, we're killing trees, Amy! What about the Earth?!_

She lets out a true laugh at his last sentence, completely understanding what he means – after all, she  _loves_  that show, and knowing that he watches it too only makes her grin grow bigger.

_Oh my God, you watch One Day At A Time too?_  she quickly writes back, then.  _I don't know if this was supposed to be a burn or something, but I'm so flattered about your comparison with Elena, so I will take that as a compliment. She's a true example, she's my favourite character from the show. Let me guess – yours is Schneider, right?! You definitely make me think of him (though you're in debt and he’s so rich…)._

_I do wear glasses, in fact. But I use my contacts most of the time._

_As for the environment, Elena wouldn't be wrong. We_ are _killing trees with our use of paper, after all. And it would be a good argument about not understanding our exchanges – much better than Rosa, who doesn't seem to understand either, always saying we're not in the 18th century anymore and could use the Internet. No matter how hard I try to explain, she doesn't seem to see the benefits of it._

* * *

_Of course, I watch it!_ his reply says.  _This show is hilarious. And I do like Schneider, yeah – though I won't raise your remark about me being in debt. If you truly knew me, you'd say I'm in_  crushing _debt. But my favorite character is Lydia. Can we talk about that season 2 finale?! I was crushed. Literally crying in my bed. Thankfully she didn't die._

_But seriously, you wear_   _glasses?! I need to see you wearing glasses, now that you shared this info with me! Please, send me a pic with your next letter. I need to make fun of you!_

_My friends don't understand why we haven't exchanged numbers yet either and keep bugging me about it. And I have to admit, they're not wrong. I mean, we could… just in case we need to reach the other immediately, one day? (Or so that you can send me this pic of you with your glasses…) I'd understand if you don't want to and prefer sticking to letters, of course. But I thought I could try asking._

Amy contemplates her friend's last words for a while when she reads his last letter once more after she's done answering him. She's hesitant, her pen stuck on top of her piece of paper, ready to add in the information he seeks, but not so sure yet that's what she wants to do. She trusts him, of course she does – she's persuaded he's not another fraud but a  _real_  friend, after all those months of conversations.

But is she ready to take up this next step with him yet? It would change everything in their way of communicating – would go against one of the reasons why she first entered this program as well, this new possibility of instantaneity.

Still, though, the thought of being able to easily reach him if she needs it is quite appealing to her, making her heart fasten in her chest in a warming way. That's why, in the end, she decides to write it down.

_P.S.: +33698204221 – here's my number. 'Just in case.'_


	3. Chapter 3

Jake really thought that after a few exchanges, he'd become bored of writing letters to this Amy woman, and would simply stop altogether, putting her letter aside one day and just forget about it – and her. He was certain the thrills that took over his heart after sending his first envelope and the even more exciting feeling that made his whole body squeal in eagerness when he received her answer would never last.

Yet here he is, several  _months_  into his weekly conversations with that stranger-from-the-other-side-of-the-globe-become-friend and he truly has no will to stop. Despite the woman's poor taste in movies (how come she never watched  _Die Hard_  and doesn't see it as the best movie ever?!) and their apparent differences, she's  _really_  fun to talk to and overall so interesting.

He who read only 15 books in his life truly doesn't mind going through letters sometimes the size of true short stories about her life in Paris or some silly banter or argument they're having over one thing or another.

It's something most of his friends don't seem to understand, especially coming from  _him_ , and never did, from the moment they discovered his 'shameful' secret – except for Charles, who's investing himself a lot in this relationship, so much so that he sometimes seems even more excited than the true receiver of Amy's letters, keeping track on them as if his life depended on it and never shutting his mouth about  _true love_  and something going on between the two of them no matter how many times his friend repeated that they were just friends. The others, though, just  _love_  to make fun of him on the topic.

That's how he finds himself entering his precinct one morning, only to see all the members of his squad gathered around Gina's desk, looking at her computer, laughing and grinning when they hear someone come in the bullpen and look up only to face him. "What's going on?" the detective asks with an amused smile, curious, letting his bag fall by his own chair before joining the group – he, too, wants to be part of the fun.

He sees it before anyone can explain it to him when he's finally reached the civilian administrator's desk, his beam turning into a confused frown at the sight: a picture of him, not showing his best profile, is showing on the computer's screen. "Where does this come from?!"

Jake doesn't remember seeing this picture anywhere before.

"Your pen pals website," Gina's the one who answers him in a very amused tone. "That's your profile pic there."

"What?!" He's completely lost, now. "How did it arrive there? I never put any picture on this website. I didn't even  _know_  you could."

"I know. But  _I_  did," the woman tells him, her grin growing bigger by the second, feeling proud. "You have to add one, when you register, probably so that your match can see you're not a fraud or whatever."

"WHAT?!" he repeats, his voice hitting a higher pitch than usual when he lets out the word again this time.

To say that he's shocked would be an understatement. It's not even the fact that his friend dared to use such a bad representation of him to literally show the world without his permission that startles him the most – it's knowing that this photo was made for Amy to see him beforehand. Which means, there is a picture of  _her_  made for him to see as well.

And he didn't know.

For weeks, while he wrote all of these letters and they started to share more and more personal details about their lives, he imagined what she looked like, drawing a profile of her in his head thanks to the small information about her physical appearance he could gather here and there in her answers, and wondered if she was doing the same – and in that case,  _how_  she saw him in her mind.

For weeks, he fought the urge of asking for a picture of her in exchange for a picture of him, so that they could put a face on their written words. But now he learns he could have known all of this from the start?

He doesn't add anything to his last comment, then. He simply rushes to his own desk and sits in front of his computer, quickly turning it on and immediately logging into the website Gina registered him in those months ago, searching for his match's own profile on there. He can't retain the gasp that escapes his mouth when he's suddenly faced with her image after clicking on her name – she looks very serious on it, a lot more serious than  _he_  is on his; but truly, he shouldn't be surprised. He could totally see her going through pictures of herself for quite some time before picking it, thinking about which one would be the most appropriate to share for such a use. It makes him smile lightly, an overwhelming warmth taking over his heart at the simple thought of her like this.

For a while he studies her, his eyes wandering over her raven hair cascading on her shoulders and her cute flower-patterned blouse and her brown, piercing gaze, piercing right through his core.

She's such a beautiful woman, is the first thing that comes into his head while he can't seem to look away, as if hypnotised. Exactly how he pictured her during all this time.

He does force himself to turn around when he realises he's been staring at his screen for a full minute now and can feel his cheeks burning up. He quickly goes to his own profile, replacing his picture for another  _better_  one, realisation that  _this_  is the image of him she has in her mind when talking to him suddenly hitting him hard – he can't help but be afraid of what she might have thought the first time she saw it, when she didn't know him yet. He wonders how she didn't get scared herself and decided not to reach him – especially knowing her troubled past with pen pals.

(He's so glad she went past that and did it.)

That's why, later that same day, he doesn't wait until he receives the woman's letter to send her another short one, too impatient to tell her the news and make her look at his better profile for that.

(He's also afraid he'll forget about it altogether otherwise.)

 _Ames!_  (He loves calling her that ever since he first did, the use of a pet name making him feel closer to his friend despite the miles physically separating them.)  _You should check my profile on the website again. I updated my photo. I didn't know it was this one – it's a much better one now ;)_

He stares at his piece of paper for a while after that, the urge to add a comment about her own picture burning the hand with which he's holding onto his pen – something along the lines of  _'You look great'_ – but he prevents himself last minute when Charles's words from a few weeks ago, after he let her read his latest letter, come rushing back into his mind without a warning and making his heart clench in his chest.

"You like her, admit it," he told her with an excited grin covering his features when he handed Jake his letter back once he was done with it, eyes sparkling with bliss.

Of course he didn't admit – because there was nothing to admit. They're just  _friends_.

But still, he settles for a less daring compliment after spending too long for his liking debating with himself and letting his colleague enter his head like this –

 _(_ _P.S.: yours isn't too bad either.)_

* * *

Amy likes his new profile picture, she says. She even already liked the previous one.

Jake thinks Charles might have been right all along, and he likes  _her_  too.

* * *

It's not something that occurs to him all of a sudden, when he passes by yet another place he recalls her talking about and immediately thinks of her or when he opens his fridge and opens himself a can of orange soda, smiling despite himself when he imagines what she would tell him if she could see him when he does so.  _Ugh, how can you drink that?!_ _Orangina is much better!_

It takes some more time accepting the truth that he may, indeed, have feelings for his friend from the other side of an ocean, when he tells her the truth about how he got in touch with her in the first place and he doesn't receive any answer on the usual day he's supposed to. There's this hole inside his heart that only grows bigger with each new day passing by with no sign of a letter from France in his mailbox.

There's this fear that he screwed up everything with his revelation and she now doesn't want to talk with him anymore (just like  _he_  didn't mean to, at first) – this terrifying feeling that this might be it – the end of their friendship. And it hurts. A lot. Probably more than it should – but it does, and the simple thought of never reading her words ever again or being able to rant about his own life with her is truly devastating to him.

Thankfully, an answer comes a few days later, bringing all the colours back into Jake's world the moment he opens the envelope and lays his eyes on the signature curves of Amy's neat handwriting.

He has no other choice than to admit it, then, as he reads what she has to tell him with a beam covering his features and his heart pounding hard in his chest. He  _does_  like her indeed.

_So? Do I meet your expectancies? Or were you expecting someone else?_

_Oh, Amy,_ he thinks.  _You don't meet them – you_ surpass _them, and by far_ _._ He doesn't write it back this time, though. He keeps his feelings for himself, locked away.

What's the point of telling her, anyway? It's not like something could happen between the two of them, would she feel the same about him too – they literally have a whole ocean separating them.

* * *

"You're still writing her letters?" Gina asks him once, a few weeks after realisation that he liked Amy hit him, when the two old friends and the rest of their squad are all spending a weekend away together, just like they do each year. Jake has been isolating himself for a little while now, taking a moment in his precious (and oh so rare, these days) free time to write his pen pal back, not having had the chance to do it earlier because of an important case he's been working on for the past week and still hasn't come near solving.

It's the only break he'll have before who knows when, and he misses talking to her – so he doesn't care right much now, if he misses some part of a party with people he gets to see  _every day_.

Hearing the woman's words, the detective looks up from his piece of paper, frowning as he comes to hide it with his arms on instinct. He doesn't really like being disturbed during these moments when he can talk about everything and anything with Amy. "Yeah, why?"

She takes a sit in front of him, making herself at ease while letting out a desperate sigh. "It's been months! Why didn't you give her your number already?"

"She lives in  _Paris_ ," he answers in a defensive tone, as if what he just said is some obvious, vital information. "I don't have international data."

This time, Gina lets out a truly shocked gasp. "Oh my God, Jake, in what century are you living in?" She watches the man with big, wide-open eyes. "Reassure me, you know we have such things as WhatsApp or Messenger nowadays, right? Or you could still talk with her via Skype or even emails. There are literally tons of ways to reach her which are easier than sending each other those dumb letters."

Jake doesn't answer right away, contemplating his friend's answer for a beat with his mouth half-open. She does have a point, here, but still, he doesn't seem too convinced.

"Yeah, I don't know…" He eventually speaks again with a shrug, hesitant. "I think she likes it this way. I don't wanna scare her by prying too much into her life if I ask for her number or… whatever."

"She's weird," Gina simply shakes her head in return before standing up and leaving the room as suddenly as she first appeared. While he finishes his letter, following this conversation, Jake almost asks Amy if she'd be willing to take their way of communicating to a next, more comfortable indeed, level but chickens out in the end.

He doesn't want to upset her again and risk making her contemplate answering him ever again, like it happened a few weeks back.

* * *

Finally, most surprisingly,  _she_  is the one who brings the topic first, talking about her roommate and how she doesn't understand the purpose of exchanging letters as they do. He sees it as his one-time chance when he reads her words and tells her about his own friends and their shared opinion, and how maybe, just  _maybe_ , it wouldn't be so much of a bad idea to give each other their numbers, after all.

_Just in case._

He's really nervous when he opens the envelope containing her answer a few days later (at least, she's not late this time – which means no matter what she might say, she didn't close off because of his request; he takes that as a first good sign) and simply can't retain the startled gasp coming out of his mouth when he discovers the note at the foot of her letter.

_P.S.: +33698204221 – here's my number. 'Just in case.'_

He lets his finger wander over the numbers for a while, staring at the sentence, reading and re-reading it over and over. Her use of quotation marks around the words  _'Just in case'_  he himself wrote first confuses him a lot – does she really mean for him to call or text her only in case of an emergency or on the contrary, does she want for him to do it even if it's not truly necessary?

He doesn't know, nor does he ask, and figures she must have meant the first option when he gives her his own number and she never sends him the picture of her in glasses he wanted.

* * *

Several times after this exchange, Jake contemplates texting his pen pal, this thumb hovering over the "Amy Santiago" contact he created for her in his phone as soon as she gave him her number while lying in bed, counting in his head the time difference there is between the two of them. But he never does, and just like she never sends him this picture, never does she text him either.

They keep writing each other letters, of course, and it seems like nothing has changed when they communicate but in the man's mind, everything did. Because now, when he sees something which makes him think of Amy, he  _knows_  he has a way of letting her know right away – and even send her a photo of said thing if he wants to. But he doesn't, for fear of trespassing his right.

This is  _not_  something important he  _must_  talk with her about, he reminds himself when he gets some perogies (his friend's favourite takeout food) for dinner. This is  _not_  a case of  _'Just in case.'_

* * *

Amy has those moments too, when she sees that Die Hard is on TV one night and she curiously watches it, cringing when she notices the original version isn't available and she has to endure the bad French dubbing. She almost sends a video to Jake for him to listen to it (the simple thought of it makes her chuckle, imagining his offended reaction) but stops herself from doing so at the last minute.

She'll tell him to check by himself on the Internet in her next letter – it's safer this way.

Safer to keep their distance by only reaching out through written messages they have to wait for a week to receive and not… more. She's already getting too close, she can feel it, starting to fall for him when she really shouldn't – he lives  _miles_  away, after all. Exactly 3,627 miles away from her (5,835 kilometers, as the French would say), 6 hours behind on the timezones, and 7 hours of flight away from her – and they don't have any way to change that.

(And  _he_  doesn't like her like  _that_ , anyway.)

* * *

Eventually, once again, Amy's the one who gives in and uses that precious number she's had saved in her phone for quite some time, now. She gives in, because it's been three weeks now, and Jake hasn't answered her last letter yet, and it  _never_  happened before – and it's almost been a year of them communicating this way.

They've even reached the point where they manage to send  _two_  letters a week to the other, getting to talk to each other once a week having become too little for what they have to say. So, of course, she wonders. Of course, she's worried about him – scared, even, that something happened to him, or someone around him. He's a cop, after all – he puts his life at risk every day, the woman is well aware of that.

And, apparently, she's right to be afraid. Because, when she finally presses that 'Call' button next to his name, her heart beating fast in her chest while she nervously waits for him to answer her, each new 'bip' of the phone making her freak out more and more, she's eventually met by a voice that's not his after almost a full minute – she's never heard his voice before, obviously, but she knows it's not his because it's a  _female_  voice that echoes through the other end of the line.

Even worst – it's a  _recorded_  female voice.  _"The number you have dialed has been disconnected."_

The bad feeling in her guts only grows bigger when she hangs up and lets herself fall on her bed, eyes fixed on the floor of her room and swallowing hard.

* * *

Amy isn't usually a stalker. She's not much of a social media person, to be honest – only checks her accounts once in a while. But it's an emergency she's living right now, so she doesn't care about who she might look like, going through people's profiles in search of something,  _anything_  that could calm her down and answer the question that hasn't left her mind for the past week, ever since she tried calling Jake and it turned out to be a failure:  _where is her pen pal?!_

For a moment there, the possibility that he wrote his number wrong (or that she read it wrong, given how messy his handwriting is) crossed her mind but then, added to the fact that she still isn't receiving any news from him through the mail makes her certain this can't be a coincidence. Something has happened to him, she can feel it deep in her core. Something  _bad_ , she can't help but freak out about it.

And, no matter how deep she digs into the Internet, it seems like she can't find anything anywhere to help her relax.

* * *

"Rosa, you were part of the NYPD before you left, right? Do you still have contacts there?"

The professor takes a seat next to her roommate one night, a new determination shining in her tired eyes. It's been a month without news of her friend now, and Amy is on the verge of losing it.

Not only is she obviously still scared something happened to him, but she also misses him. A lot. She misses their talks, misses how he makes her laugh and feel. Misses how in other circumstances he'd know exactly how to calm her down and tell her that everything's gonna be okay. Problem is, this time, the thing she's worried about is  _his_  well-being – he can't really help her with that, then.

Because if he did, she wouldn't be worrying in the first place.

"Yeah, I was." Rosa takes her out of her spiraling thoughts, drawing her attention away from the program she's watching on their TV to put it on her roommate. "And yes, I still have a few contacts. Why?"

"Would it be possible you ask them if they know something about Jake Peralta from the ninety-ninth precinct? I'm afraid something happened to him."

The detective frowns at her friend's words, watching her curiously. "You still haven't heard of him yet?" She's been listening to her vent about the man and her fears for a few weeks now.

"No… I tried to call him but it says the number's been disconnected and he still hasn't sent any new letter." Amy lowers her gaze, her heart clenching harder inside of her.

There's a pause after that, during which Rosa contemplates the other woman's request, watching her as she nervously plays with her hands on her lap, waiting for her friend's answer.

"Okay," she eventually says. "I'll see what I can do."

This makes the professor look up suddenly, a new light shining in her eyes. "Thanks, Rosa," she sincerely tells her, feeling a weight fall off her chest with this simple promise.

* * *

Turns out, the bad thing that happened to Jake is that he got fired from the NYPD, or so Rosa's ex-colleagues inform her when she asks them – and genuinely think is the truth. But, in reality, all of this is just a cover; in reality, he's working alongside the FBI to bring down one of the biggest drug families in New York City – the famous Iannucci family. No doubt he doesn't have the time to chat with Amy then.

It kind of occurred all of a sudden, one simple case turning into the most important mission in his career, so much so that he didn't have the time (nor the right, anyway) to let his friend know of the news in any way, requested to get rid of his phone and leave his apartment the quicker possible so that he could start his new undercover life.

It's been a few months now (they said the whole thing would last about six months) and he's still nowhere near the end of his mission. And, though he was thrilled at first, to be able to take part in such a huge case, and he still finds the task pretty exciting most of the time, it being something he's always dreamed of achieving ever since he decided he'd become a cop when he's older, there are days like this one, he has to admit it's a little be too much to handle.

It's a little bit too much because he gets to witness horrid things he wouldn't wish anyone has to witness in their lives – even his worst enemy. It's a little bit too much because every step, every decision he makes has to be carefully, though quickly, thought through beforehand – otherwise, the smallest mistake could just blow up his cover and cost him his damn life.

It's a little bit too much because he's all alone, unable to reach any of his loved ones to talk about those moments when it's a little bit too much.

So, in days like this one, he lies in the tiny bed of his new (temporary, thankfully) apartment, surrounded by the dark of the night and the dark of his thoughts. Today has been a bad day. Today has been a reminder of what is at stakes for him – a vivid reminder of how risky and dangerous his mission truly is.

Today is the kind of days he could really use a friend but he can't, because he's supposed to have cut all strings with them and hate them all after being 'fired' from the NYPD.

Jake lets out a long, desperate sigh, reaching for his bedside table to turn on the light again since he can't seem to sleep anyway, when his hand lands on something on its way to the bedside lamp. Intrigued, he grabs the little piece of paper and looks at it for a whole second, his heart missing a beat when he recognises it – it's kind of crushed, ripped on the edges, but still easily legible.

_P.S.: +33698204221 – here's my number. 'Just in case.'_

He keeps staring at it for a while, this tiny part of one of Amy's letters he ripped off the whole thing to bring with him to his new location –  _just in case_. He misses her. It's weird, missing someone he's never seen 'for realz,'  _feeling_  for someone he's only reached through letters, but he does. He can't help but wonder if she's worried about him not answering her or if she's hurt because she assumed he just forgot about her all of a sudden.

Or maybe  _she_  forgot about him.

He keeps staring at it for a while, and then, without really thinking about what he's doing, he reaches out for his new burner phone on his bedside table and dials her number. This won't hurt his cover, he tells himself – she has nothing to do with any of his other friends, and she lives miles away. And right now, he really needs to talk to someone.

He really needs to talk to  _her_.

Before pressing the 'Call' button, he looks at his alarm first, remembering where she is. 1:04 am, it shows. Which means 7 am for her. He recalls some conversations they had, and thus  _knows_  she's most likely awake – or at least on the verge too. She tried to show him the benefits of waking up early and not wasting your morning lying in bed, once.

(Without much success, though.)

That's why he eventually presses the button, and waits not so patiently during one, two, three rings, until…

_"Hello?"_

His heart pounds harder in his chest when he hears her voice for the very first time. It's so strange, but so good at the same time. He remains speechless, unable to let a word out his mouth.

 _"Hello? Someone's here?"_  Amy's sleepy voice asks again and, after a few seconds, feeling that she's going to hang up if he doesn't talk soon, Jake finally finds back his own.

"Amy?" His tone is hoarse, and he has to cough to take off the lump in his throat, but at least he said something.

_"Yes, who's calling?"_

Of course, she doesn't recognise him. How could she? She's just as clueless of what he sounds like as he is – or  _was_ , now.

There's a short pause, during which Jake takes a deep breath, before he eventually answers. "It's… it's me, Jake," he tells her – and, as he lets out the words, he's suddenly afraid he made a  _huge_  mistake.

He  _does_  feel better after not even a whole minute listening to her, though.

 _"Oh my God, Jake, finally!"_  Her response is soon to come in a gasp.  _"I was so scared something happened to you. Why didn't you answer my last letter?! It's been_ three months _! Listen, I know you've been fired, and you must be going through a hard time, but still. You could have reached me. Aren't we supposed to be friends? I could have helped you."_  She can't seem to stop her ramblings and let everything she had in her chest out.

She sounds both relieved and worried, but also disappointed in him, and Jake can't blame her for that. On the contrary, he can't help but hate himself for making her wonder about him during all this time, even though he didn't really have a choice. He should have found a way to talk to her before anyway. To let her know he was okay.

"I'm sorry," he eventually says. "I–… I can't really explain to you what's happening right now, but I've been really busy with my new work. I still am, to be honest, and it's kind of important, and I know I should have done it before, but I–… I just needed company," he confesses.

Amy can tell from his tone that something's wrong with him – something he apparently can't share.

That's why she simply asks in return, still worried about her friend even now that she managed to get a hold on him,  _"Is everything alright?"_

It takes him a beat, but he eventually talks again, a small smile covering his face.

"It's better now that I get to talk with you."

* * *

Jake and Amy's first oral conversation doesn't last long, Amy having to get ready for her class, but it's enough to calm the detective down and allow him to finally get some rest.

He dreams about her, that night, about her arms wrapping around his body, pulling him in a tight, warm, reassuring hug. It's not the first time he dreams about them meeting  _for realz_ , but it's the first time he feels so empty when he wakes up and realises this was just that – another dream. She's still miles away from him, and he's still stuck on his mission.

(He promises himself that morning, if –  _when_  – he gets out of here, he'll jump on the first plane to Paris to see her, thinking about it with his finger dreamily tracing the way between New York City and Paris on the map he owns, sighing when he thinks about how short it is on the piece of paper but such an enormous distance in real life.)

It keeps him going, this thought. This, and the fact that the first call they shared soon turns into a new habit of theirs, to reach each other through the phone whenever they can. Her voice is so soothing, but what he loves best is her laugh; something he gets to hear a lot, as he discovers with joy that he's pretty gifted at making her laugh.

With each new day passing by he falls for her harder and harder and every time it becomes more difficult to hang out with her. He needs  _more_  than just hearing her.

He needs to see her – to  _hold_  her (if it's what she wants to as well, of course).

That's why, when he's finally done with his mission, coming back to the Nine-Nine after succeeding in bringing the criminals down, he does what he promised himself he'd do should he see the end of it –

He books a plane ticket for the next morning after writing Amy a long letter revealing everything about his undercover, now that it's officially over and he can talk about it and lets her know about his wish.

_I'd like for us to meet – like, for realz._

He doesn't have the heart to wait another week for her answer, though. He's waited long enough. Plus, according to Charles and his high-pitched screamings when he hears the news, this will be quite the romantic surprise. So, he goes.

* * *

Jake starts thinking his little impulsive trip might finally have been a bad idea when he finds himself lost in a city he doesn't know, where half the people he tries asking directions to don't understand him or simply pass him by without leaving him time to express himself, his phone dead in his pocket and holding a bottle of lavender shampoo in his hands like the fool he is. Truly, this doesn't start well.

Thankfully, after wandering around for almost an hour and deciding that Charles had the worst gift ideas around minute 35 and threw his bottle of shampoo away, he eventually finds Amy's building. He stops in front of it for a second, his heart starting beating faster in his chest when realisation hits him – this is it. The moment he's been waiting for for so long.

After over a year of exchanging letters and talking through the phone, he's about to  _meet_  her. For realz. His smile suddenly drops, though, and he begins to wonder if he shouldn't have waited for her answer first. What if she doesn't want to see him? What if she has a busy week at work and won't have any time to spend with him?

_What if…?_

He tries to chase his spiraling thoughts away, finally entering the building and searching for the woman's floor. When he finds it and stands in front of her apartment, he takes a deep breath, seeking the courage he needs to knock on the door. He waits for a few more seconds after that, unable to remain still, stroking his hands together in edginess, feeling that they're starting to get sweaty.

Eventually, the creaking of the door opening makes him stop still in his movements and he holds his breath, until he lets out a surprised gasp when he's suddenly met with a woman… who clearly isn't Amy.

"Who are you?!" He seems surprised, so much so that he looses all his manners, feeling both a little disappointed and relieved at the same time.

"Who's asking?" the woman on the other end of the landing asks in a harsh voice, studying him suspiciously. She doesn't seem pleased to be interrupted in whatever she was doing by a stranger.

"Hi, bonjour, Madame, I'm Jake. Jake Peralta," he introduces himself then, holding out his hand – but the person inside the apartment doesn't act like moving hers, so he lets it fall back to his side. "I'm looking for Amy Santiago. Isn't she here? I'm…"

He doesn't have the time to say more, because all of a sudden the woman's features lit up at his words, showing herself instantly more interested in him. "Oh, you're Amy's boyfriend from New York!"

"I'm not her boy–…" He's quick to correct her, before a new warmth takes over his heart. "Does she call me that?" He can't help but grin, hopeful.

The owner of the place shakes her head. "Nope. But I can hear your gross conversations through the phone." She grimaces as memories she'd rather forget come back to her mind.

"We're not…"

Jake wants to defend himself, but she cuts him again, with a wave of her hand this time. "Anyways, don't care. Amy's at work right now," she informs him. "She should be back in about 30 minutes."

The woman pauses after that and, seeing his disappointed face, she finally adds, "You can wait for her here, if you don't talk. There's orange soda in the fridge – go for it, if you want. That stuff's disgusting, I don't know why Amy insisted we should buy some. She tried once and hasn't touched the thing since."

The detective can't help but smile at this comment, remembering this argument they had over it a while ago. Boy, he can't wait to see her…

When the woman – who Jake supposes is Amy's roommate, Rosa – finally lets him in, she immediately goes back to sitting on the couch and he follows her, taking a seat in silence next to her. While she concentrates on what's going on on the screen of her laptop, Jake lets his eyes wander around, taking in the apartment. It's exactly how he thought it would be – it reflects his friend's personality perfectly.

After a while without a sound other than some TV show filling the place, though, he can't keep it anymore, nervously playing with his hands on his lap. He has to ask. "Is she… seeing someone?"

He's about to ask again, thinking Rosa didn't hear him since she didn't even flinch when she answers him, not bothering turning to look at her guest, but she eventually speaks. "Don't know. Don't care."

"Oookay," Jake suddenly feels really insecure about his idea. "Cool. Cool cool cool. No doubt, no doubt…"

"I don't think so." The woman, hearing the stress in his voice, draws her attention away from her screen and puts it on him. "Listen, dude, stop freaking out. I probably shouldn't tell you that, but you're clearly into her and you just crossed an ocean for her, so… If you wanna know if she likes you too, just watch her when she talks to you. If she double-tucks, go for it."

Jake frowns, confused. "If she what?!"

Rosa is about to further explain herself but only has the time to open her mouth when the sound of the door opening cuts her off, making the detective next to her startle up.

"Hi, Rosa, it's me, Amy, your roommate," a cheerful voice resonates through the walls as steps approach them. "I'm–…"

The newcomer is stopped still in her tracks and the middle of her sentence when she eventually reaches the living-room and spots a man standing next to her friend – a man she recognises immediately.

"JAKE?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to end things like this? :3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for making you wait after the last chapter, this one was the only one I didn't have already written when I first posted the story and I got stuck with writer's block for a while... But here it is now, the very last chapter before the epilogue!
> 
> I hope you'll like it, and thanks so much to the people who leave comments and kudos on this – it's truly appreciated <3 A huge thank you to @alys07 on Tumblr as well, for proofreading this and your kind words, that was so nice of you to do!!

_ "JAKE?!" _

A heavy silence takes over the room right after Amy lets out  her friend's name, none of them making another move from the moment their eyes lock together, as if stuck still.

They can't seem to draw their gaze away from each other, staring at their pen pal  with mouths half-open – one in complete shock of having a man who's supposed to be living  _ thousands of miles  _ away from her in her apartment, and the other in pure awe, seeing her  _ for realz  _ for the very first time. She's so astonishing, Jake's at a loss for words.

It's finally Rosa who breaks the quietness of the moment, rolling her eyes at the scene happening in front of her while she stands up and grabs her laptop. "Well, I'll leave you two alone."

The pair barely acknowledges her when she leaves them and joins her own room without waiting for them to say anything back – she's not sure they heard her anyway, still so lost in each other. It's only after another full 30 seconds that  Amy  clears her throat to regain some composure, blinking a few times to make sure she's not dreaming the scene that's happening right now.

(After all, it happened before – several times, and more often than ever during the past weeks.)

"Wh–… what are you doing here?" she asks, her voice hoarse.

"I, uh, I wanted to say hi? Y'know,  _ for realz _ , this time," Jake pitifully justifies himself as to why he travelled all these miles to fall down at  Amy’s door – though he thought about it a lot in the plane during the too many hours he had to wonder about their encounter, he finally decided around hour 5 that blurting his feelings out the minute they see each other for the first time wouldn't be a good idea.

They're not in some rom-com he watched, and he's already showing up unexpected – that's enough to take in at once, no need to add more surprise to his arrival.

He'll have a full week to build it up and confess how he feels about her.

While he speaks,  Jake tries and forces a grin at his friend, so nervous he can actually hear his pounding heart resonate in his ears. Amy remains speechless for a while, and he starts second-guessing every decision he's ever taken in his whole life – clearly, this was a bad idea. Once again, just like he always does,  he’s screwed everything up spectacularly by intruding into her privacy like this.

He should have known better than to come up here unannounced for a first meeting with his pen pal, especially when he knows what a disaster her encounter with her previous one was.

"You… wanted to 'say hi?'" she eventually  says , taking Jake out of his spiraling thoughts. She seems amused, but mostly startled and somewhat moved by his words. An endearing smile covers her face while she speaks and comes closer to the detective, calming him down immediately as he feels like he’s drowning into her shining gaze with her brown eyes piercing right through his core.

_ God, she's so beautiful  _ – even more so now that he gets to  _ really  _ see her and not just some picture on a website, able to study every feature of her.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, that was a stupid idea," he can't help but apologise despite what seems to finally be a rather positive reaction on her part. "I should have never done that without asking first. I can go if you want me to…" He lowers his eyes, praying she won't agree with his words and take this opportunity to kick him out of her apartment.

Fortunately, she doesn't, her own eyes only growing bigger when she hears him. " Wait! No, don't leave !" She's quick to react, wrapping her fingers around his wrist on instinct, to prevent him from taking not even one step away. The simple, unexpected gesture makes them both start in surprise, a rush of electricity taking over Jake's body as he watches the hand curling around him.

_ Amy Santiago is touching him _ , he can't help but think,  all of a sudden turning the whole event into something all the more real in his mind – the fact that he's here, in front of her, in Paris.

When he looks up at her, he notices the small blush on her cheeks and the light smile she wears on her lips. "I'm happy you're here," she lets out, sincere, after a beat, when she has his whole attention again.

She hasn't let go of his arm yet but Jake's not the one who would complain about that.

"You are?" He seems surprised, a new glint shining in his gaze while he stares at  his friend in awe, heart beating faster than ever in his chest, all worries about having made a bad decision suddenly forgotten.

"Yeah, I am." Amy nods, her beam growing bigger as she looks back at him, soon matched by the man's own grin.

After that, silence fills the room again for a little while, pleasant and peaceful, until it's Jake's turn to break it, as if some realisation suddenly startles him out of his trance. "I'm sorry I'm coming empty-handed, but Charles convinced me the best present I could bring would be a bottle of lavender shampoo and when I realised it was the worst idea ever, it was too late to buy something else."

"That's okay," Amy reassures him with a chuckle. "You didn't have to bring anything." She then offers with a still amused, knowing look, "D'you wanna have a drink? We've got orange soda."

He knows that already, Rosa having told him so earlier when he arrived but still, hearing her now, he can't help but tease  Amy about it.

"You're finally ready to admit it's a lot better than Orangina?"

"Never. It really isn't good," she replies with a laugh – it's an even better sound than hearing it through the phone, Jake realises with his heart missing a beat – actual music to his ears. She leaves his side only for a moment before coming back with two cans – one of orange soda she hands him and one of Orangina for herself, inviting him to come and sit on her couch with her.

He doesn't let it go just yet when he's comfortably seated and had a gulp of his favourite beverage. Curious, he asks with a grin, "Why did you buy some if you don't like it then?"

Amy seems to hesitate for a second before answering him, suddenly feeling nervous to let him know the reason why she has a drink she doesn't like very  much in her fridge.

Eventually, she shrugs. "Y'know, just to try it to make a fair judgment."

There's no way she's gonna admit she did it because of him. Not yet, at least.

"Just like you made a fair judgment when you assured  _ Die Hard  _ couldn't be the best cop movie ever when you’ve never watched any of them?" he mockingly snaps back, taking them back to one of their very first silly arguments that drew them closer together in the end.

"Well, I watched them all now and I still stand by it – it's only average at least."

"How are we friends?!"  Jake  falsely complains, and they both laugh while they go on with their banter, as if they'd known each other forever and weren't just meeting for the first time.

* * *

"You're alone?" Rosa, who's having breakfast in their kitchen early the next morning, seems surprised to see Amy coming out of her room to join her without any other presence by her side.

Amy  frowns as she pours herself some coffee  her roommate just made and grabs a fruit before sitting in front of her. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, you weren't alone when I left you yesterday. I figured your guy would stay the night."

Suddenly,  she understands what  Rosa means and blushes, reminiscence of the previous night coming back to her mind. "Oh, you mean Jake. No, he went back to his hotel when I told him I had a lot of work to do for today," she explains. She hated they couldn't spend more time together now that she had him in front of her, especially seeing how easily they fell into conversation despite it being the first time they were  _ seeing  _ each other and not talking through letters or the phone, but she didn't have a choice.

Thankfully, they’re going out tonight since tomorrow’s her day off – they both agreed on having dinner before Jake had to go, so that they could see each other longer this time, without her job interfering. 

"Is this a bad idea?" Amy wonders out loud while she takes a sip of her coffee, the hesitation she felt coursing through her veins when she closed the door behind her pen pal, her heart pounding fast in her chest, coming back to her. "It's so  crazy, he came here to see me and kinda… romantic as well? Does this mean he'd like something to happen between the two of us? Do  _ I  _ want this? I mean, yeah, he's really interesting and easy to talk to and  _ so fun _ .  Plus he's very good-looking, but he also lives thousands of miles away from here, and…" she  rambles to  the other woman .

"You know why I love you, Ames?" Rosa cuts her off in her tracks with a sigh.

In return, Amy's face only lit up, a huge beam covering her features at her friend's words – it's not often she talks about her feelings, and even rarer when she admits _loving_ someone like she just did. She quickly loses her smile when Rosa goes on in front of Amy's shocked silence, though, further explaining herself. "Because we never talk about our love lives."

"I know. I don't like it either. But I need help on this. Please?"  Amy  pleads, and the other eventually gives in reluctantly.

"Didn't you say all summer you miss your family and want to go back to the US to get closer to them?" she asks. "He won't live so far away if you move out, then."

"I did. I even started looking for some universities that would hire in my department, but I'm still not sure I'm done with France and Paris yet, I still need to think about it…"

"Well, I guess you just have to figure out which of the two is more important to you." Rosa shrugs as if it were simple.

Her words make Amy remain silent for a while, much to  Rosa's satisfaction. "Thanks, Rosa," she eventually tells her, feeling less stressed out about the whole thing all of a sudden.

She'll see how things go during the time Jake's here to make up her mind and judge the pros and cons of staying or leaving. After all, she's not even sure he's interested in her  _ this way  _ as well.

"Never ask me for romantic advice again, I hated it,"  the other woman simply replies, making her friend both laugh and roll her eyes at the same time. One sure thing is that she'll miss  her roommate  dearly, would she decide to truly leave Paris and go back to the United States in the following months.

* * *

Jake has a tendency of  _ always  _ being late – especially at work – but not tonight. It's 7:30 pm sharp when he knocks on Amy's door after a day spent alone in the capital city (if he doesn't count the 2-hour Skype call he had with Charles, who wanted to learn  _ everything  _ about the pen pals' encounter, even if not much happened since Amy was busy), just like they agreed on the previous night, stroking his hands together in nervousness. During all this time being by himself, and ever since he saw her for the first time, he couldn't stop thinking about  his friend , and how he felt about her.

It's only been a day, but he already can't wait to see her again – he’s missed her.

(He really doesn't want to think about when he'll have to leave at the end of the week and say his goodbyes.)

The sound of a door opening brings him out of his reverie, Amy's silhouette appearing in front of him, a smile lighting up her face when her eyes land on him. "Hi, Jake!" she happily greets him, and he remains speechless for a little while, taking in her beauty in this gorgeous red dress she's wearing for the occasion.

He clears his throat to refocus. "Bonjour Ames,  _ voulez-vous coucher avec moi? _ " he enthusiastically and proudly answers as he enters the apartment when she invites him inside, using one of the very few sentences he knows in the French language.

She blushes at his words, startled and losing her smile. "I, uh–…" She watches him with her eyes wide open, unable to form any coherent answer.  _ Does he know what this means or not?! _

She truly couldn't tell.

"Did I say something wrong?" Jake frowns in front of her silence and change of attitude, worried.

"You just asked me if I wanted to sleep with you…"

This time, it's  Jake's turn to seem shocked. "Is that what that means? Oh God, I'm sorry, it's because of my tennis instructor…" He starts, but Amy stops him before he can continue rambling.

"That's okay," she reassures him (and herself – she has to admit, knowing that he had no idea what he told her calmed her down) with her hand on his arm and a small smile. It turns bigger, mocking even, when her gaze lands on his hair and the new blond tips on top of his head that weren't there the night before. "What's that?" she points at it, trying not to laugh too hard not to offend him.

He seems embarrassed, unable to remain still as he touches his head. "I, uh, wanted to get a haircut but… the barber didn't speak English well so we misunderstood each other, and he did  _ this _ ."

"Well, it's… a style. You kinda look like Vanilla Ice." Amy bites the inside of her cheek to not burst into a loud chuckle.

"Don't mock me," Jake pouts in return and this time, seeing his face,  she can't keep it any longer.

"I'm sorry," she says when she regains some composure – though, from the look in her shining eyes, it's clear she truly isn't. Part of her is touched by his move, that he'd want to get a haircut before their meeting and look good for her (not that he needed that anyway). It makes her freak out a little as well, in truth, because all of a sudden all of this sounds a lot like a date and not just two friends catching up.

(It's not like it's the first time today she's thinking about this dinner as a date, but now it seems like Jake had the same wondering thoughts as well.)

He  doesn't try to argue more. Instead, he simply tells her about her own looks, taking her out of her reverie, "Anyways, you do look beautiful, on the other hand."

The compliment alone makes Amy fall completely serious again instantly as she feels her cheeks  burning red. Her smile is shy when she watches him and sees the sincerity in his own gaze and she answers him. "Thank you."

Not long after,  the pair  leaves the apartment side by side. Knowing Paris and its many restaurants after living there for three years,  Amy was in charge of choosing where they'd eat. It's without a doubt she chose one of her favorites Polish places then, close enough to her building to go there by foot and not too fancy to feel like a date night while remaining classy enough for such a moment between the two.

The perfect deal, according to her.

Plus she knows most of the waiters there by now – which means she'll have a backup in case this first outing alone with Jake turns bad. She trusts he's a good man, she really does – they exchanged enough letters for her to judge his character, and from the little time they spent together the previous night, he does seem like a very honorable person, but still.

Mongkut too seemed like that before she met him. She doesn't want to risk anything, even though she's not a 10-year-old girl anymore and is so less naive than she was back then, as well as way better  at reading people. But even with her traumatizing experience put aside, it's still the first time  they’re seeing each other  _ for realz  _ and alone after all.

Better be cautious, then, like she would be with any other man met on the Internet.

Her worries are quick to dissipate from her mind though as they easily fall into conversations just like they did back at her apartment, with Amy mocking Jake's French when he tries to order something but the waiter doesn't understand him – in the end,  _ she  _ ends up ordering both of their plates, and this leads to him asking her about her love for the city and then making plans about showing him around the next day.

Obviously, Jake insists on seeing places he recalls from his favourite movies, which makes  Amy  laugh and roll her eyes at the same time – there's so much more to see in the capital than some common bridge or stairs made famous by some movie. The passion with which he talks about them, though, is pretty adorable,  Amy  has to admit, making her agree to his request.

"I'm not sure we'll have time to see everything," she informs him, though. "How long are you staying here by the way?" She suddenly recalls she never got the chance to ask Jake.

Despite herself, her heart clenches in her chest at the thought of him leaving when she just got the chance to meet him in person.

"I'm leaving at the end of the week." He seems just as unwilling to be reminded of the fact that him being in Paris is just a short trip  if not more than Amy is.

A heavy silence follows this answer, putting t he two friends in an awkward situation, not knowing what to say next. Until  Amy  forces herself out of her sad thoughts and plasters a smile back on her face, watching  Jake  across the table with a new fire in her eyes. "Let's make the most of it, then," she tells him, forgetting about all her questions and worries she might have had in the  morning , ordering a new round of drinks for them to draw the awkwardness between them away, thanks to the alcohol.

She well intends to follow her roommate's advice – getting to learn which of Jake or Paris is the more important to her. And she can't do that if she spends her time with him mourning his departure already when he's still there, in flesh and bones, by her side instead of trying to know him the best she can while she still has the chance to do so.

* * *

Amy doesn’t know how it happened, but there she is, lying in a bed that’s not hers, with her clothes scattered all around the floor of some hotel room and Jake next to her, his body just as naked and sweaty from the joyous activities they previously engaged in brushing against her own.

Well, in truth, she  _ does _ know how things came up to this.

She remembers all too well how her lips fiercely found his the minute they finally left the restaurant after fighting over who would pay the bill. ( _ He _ won, but she made him promise he’d let her do on their next dinner, to which he naively and  _ so adorably _ asked if that meant she wanted to go out with him again, as if it weren’t obvious that she did,  _ you dummy _ .) She remembers all too well how she had to focus hard on the road ahead and repress her want to just pin him against a wall and kiss the air out of him right there on the busy street. She remembers all too well how she didn’t waste any more second when they entered his room and helped him out of his clothes while getting rid of hers too.

_ "Wait, are you sure about this?" _  She remembers his question when she started unzipping the fly of his jeans and how she easily made him shush by giving him her whole consent.

_ "Damn right I’m sure." _

She remembers  _ everything _ that led to this particular moment all too well, despite the dizziness the four drinks she downed earlier at dinner might have made her feel – more like the  _ horniness _ , though, as 4-drink Amy is famous for being a little bit of a pervert.

"So…" she trails off when she's found back an even breathing, still quite not realising what she –  _ they  _ – just did. She's certainly not the type of person having sex on the first date.

Especially when said 'first date' wasn't supposed to be considered as such in the first place and rather be two friends having dinner together. Not a  _ date _ .

"So it seems like you did voulez coucher avec moi after all," Jake jokes, replaying what he told her earlier that night, when he didn't know what it meant, turning to face her with a huge grin spread across his face. It lightens the atmosphere between them, making Amy laugh and soften a little.

"Yeah, it seems like I did," she replies in a same tone, a small smile of her own coming to light up her features as she stares and sees how he's glowing right now.

But then she quickly falls serious again, a new thought taking over her mind. "I hope it wasn't a mistake…"

"Are you kidding me?!"  Jake gasps before getting closer, hovering over her and stealing her a kiss. "Would I do that, if I thought we made a mistake?" He kisses her again, letting his hand slide along her side, making her shiver at his touch and laugh a little more – it's all she needs to feel completely reassured they're on the same page. 

Until all of a sudden Jake stops, as if realising something too, and he reluctantly draws himself a little away from her to better watch her as he speaks. "I hope  _ you  _ don't think we made a mistake?" he asks, worry overcoming him as the thought lingers into his mind and he's quick to remove his hand from her body, not wanting to make her uncomfortable by doing something she might not want to do.

Amy doesn't bother replying with anything – instead, she chooses to show him how she  _ truly  _ doesn't see their intimate encounter as a mistake, bringing him back to her, switching positions so that  _ she  _ is on top of him and kissing him breathlessly, the remnants of 4-drink Amy still coursing wild in her veins.

* * *

It's all light and breezy when they wake up the next morning, Amy finding herself half-stuck under Jake's still sleeping form, cuddling against her side. She smiles at the sight and remains like this for a few seconds, studying  the man next to her, gently stroking his messy, curly hair comfortably resting on her chest, and he lets out a quiet contented moan at her soft touch.

She pushes him off of her after some time and goes straight to the bathroom, sensing her head ache when she stands up and with each new step she takes. She locks herself inside and as soon as she enters the shower and the hot water drips onto her body, she relaxes, closing her eyes to better enjoy this moment of peace. But, the more she stays in the shower, the more images of the previous night come back to her mind, and it starts to overwhelm her, thinking about it.

It was a  _ great  _ night, she can't deny it –  the two friends (if she can still consider her pen pal like this after having sex with him) had a lot of fun together, and it seems like they were both really good at what they were doing, but what's next? After such a night, and now that she completely sobered up, she can't deny she has feelings for him either – and it seems like  _ he  _ truly does as well.

Instead of reassuring her, though, this observation is quite terrifying.

Because, once again,  _ what's next _ ? She still hasn't come near to take a decision about her life, and she's so afraid of the downside of getting too close if she finally decides not to move back out.

It's all light and breezy until Amy gets out of the bathroom, offering Jake a shy "hi" in answer to his own when he sees her and greets her with a grin, now fully awake too.  He soon senses that something's off with her , that she suddenly became distant when he tries to make her come back to bed and she tells him they don't have the time for it with all the activities they want to do more harshly than she probably should, and even though this change of attitude hurts him badly, he knows better than to leave her the space she needs and avoid the 'we had sex' topic with her.

The day goes as if nothing happened then, following the plans they made before getting drunk and ending at his hotel room, visiting the city while sharing stories.

And it's an amazing moment they spend together, and Jake probably should make do with what he has and enjoy the simple friendship without questioning it, but he can't. He can't deny what happened between them the previous night, just like he can't deny how much he liked it and would love to be able to take her hand and kiss her again.

That's why, while they pass by the Pont des Arts, formerly known as the  _ bridge of lovers  _ before all of the padlocks had to be removed since they were damaging the bridge, Amy informs him of the facts, he stops in his tracks and stares deep in her eyes.

She watches him back with a curious frown.

"Aren't we going to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"  The woman's frown draws deeper on her face, pretending she doesn’t understand what her pen pal means when obviously, she does – how couldn’t she?

He sighs, seeking some courage to let the next words out. "Last night," he looks back at her. "I know you told me yesterday – more like  _ showed  _ me," he corrects himself, a small smile curling up the corners of his mouth at the reminder of their shared moment, "– that you didn't see it as a mistake but us ignoring the fact that we  _ did  _ kiss and slept together is starting to look like it." He sounds defeated.

In her chest, Amy's heart tightens a little, and she lowers her head a second, unable to meet  Jake' s gaze.

"I don't regret it," she eventually tells him in a whisper before putting her eyes back on him – he can see in them she means it, which is rather reassuring. "I really don't," she insists.

"Good," Jake smiles in return. "Because I don't regret it either. It was one of the best night I ever had."

A shy beam appears on  Amy 's features as she acknowledges, "Me too."

There's a pause after that, until her friend speaks again.

"Look, I know it's complicated because we literally live thousands of miles away from each other and I'm only here for a few days, but… I really like you."

"Jake…" Amy tries to cut him off, her heart now pounding way too fast in her chest, but he goes on nonetheless.

"I could stay here, if–… if you feel the same," he offers without thinking.  Amy , who clearly wasn't ready for this, watches him with wide, shocked eyes.

That's how she can tell from his own gaze how sincere he is about this  _ crazy  _ idea.

"Jake," she repeats his name, and this time he lets her talk. "I like you too," she admits, those simple words making him smile wider, hopeful – only for a beat, though, before she goes on with her explanation. "But it was only one drunken night. I won't let you throw away your dream career and entire life for  _ this  _ – something we don't even know what it is exactly."

He takes a step closer, curling his hand around hers, never leaving her sight as he speaks.

"It's not just 'one drunken night.' It's months of exchanging letters and updating each other about our lives. It's your voice helping me go through the most dangerous mission  I’ve ever  had to go through. It's the fact that I wanted to see you so much I already decided to leave my dream career and entire life behind the minute I was back from being undercover, away from it for months and jumped on the first plane to Paris."

Amy remains speechless, not knowing  how to respond to this, tears prickling inside her eyes and threatening to  fall .

"Can't we just… enjoy our few days together without wondering about what's happening next?" she eventually asks – she can't take this conversation anymore,  it’s stressing her out too much.

Fortunately, Jake doesn't try to argue more  to make her see his point. He simply nods his agreement, then takes another step in her direction and, both his hands now framing her face, his thumb softly removing one lost salty pearl, he kisses her. Her own hands soon find their place on his chest, and though they kissed several times during the previous night already, it truly feels like the very first time.

It's much gentler than their needy, breathless encounters, though just as passionate and sincere. They  _ do  _ like each other – a lot.

"So, what's the next stop in our little visit?" The man asks with a grin when they eventually (though reluctantly) draw away from each other. Amy takes out the map she took with her to create their itinerary during breakfast to make the most of their day and be able to see the maximum of things in the little time they had with a smile of her own.

"The Louvre. You said you wanted to see the Mona Lisa, right?"

"Yeah, I've heard she's an overrated piece of shit, I need to see that," Jake amusedly answers, an insult that owes him a gasp and a punch on the side from his 'friend.'

"She's not overrated, it's a wonderful masterpiece!" The Art Historian in her feels offended, which only makes  him laugh more at her reaction.

He can't help but find her absolutely adorable at this moment.

After apologising, he offers her his hand to take in truce while they go on with their course, and she gladly accepts it after pouting a few more seconds (only for the form), leading him around the streets of this city she knows and loves so much. (But is it more important than  _ he  _ – and her entire family – are though? A voice keeps questioning in her head while she takes a glance at their intertwined fingers.)

* * *

The following days pass by so quickly, Jake and Amy can barely register it's already their last when they wake up the same way they did for the past mornings since the first night they shared – curled up together in either his or her bed (mostly his, not to be disturbed by  the woman' s roommate and her disgusted looks at the pair in front of their cheesiness).

It's been the best, happiest days of their lives, sharing their time between visiting the city when Amy wasn't working or simply enjoying quiet moments together, learning to know each other better as  _ a couple _ .

Needless to say that having to say goodbye becomes even harder than what they could have imagined when their eyes met for the first time at the beginning of the week, when Amy came back from the university only to come face-to-face with this man whose face she'd only known through a picture until then, surprising her with his unexpected visit.

She knows  _ a lot  _ more than just his face, now. And she likes it – so much. She's not so sure she's ready to go back to a life of reaching each other through mail and the occasional texts or calls only.

Jake, for sure, isn't. "My offer still stands, y'know," he tells her then, brushing his fingers over her naked arm, his eyes looking at the ceiling, none of them willing to leave the bed, locked in their happy bubble.

"I know,"  Amy sighs in return. "And you know I can't let you do this. Not for me. Not after just a week of being together  _ for realz _ ."

"I know," he repeats her words in a same defeated voice – they talked a lot about their problem the previous night, trying to find a solution. Which they kind of did, Amy promising she'd come to the US during her winter break – it'd been three years  since she’d seen her family for Christmas, and this way she could visit  _ him  _ too .

They could figure things out then, after a few months of long-distance relationship – see if they still wanted to do it.  _ Be together. _

Jake agreed to her offer, though he already knew now he'd still want it, no matter how much time would pass by until he sees her again. It might have been only a week, but he knows they have something special. Something he doesn't intend to lose and will fight for, every day if he has to, despite the possible obstacles coming their way – with the first obvious one, that huge ocean separating them.

"We need to get dressed if you don't want to miss your plane,"  his lover suddenly takes him out of his reverie, drawing herself a little away from him to leave the bed.

"Wait," he stops her before she stands up, and takes her back into his arms. "One more minute," he pleads, meeting her lips in a chaste peck, and she can't deny him his request, melting into his embrace, her hands dreamily coming to trace the muscles of his torso as they kiss one last time, printing them into her memory –  _ until next time _ , she tells herself, trying to reassure herself this is  _ not  _ a farewell.

Only goodbyes  _ for now _ .

When they eventually let go of each other, they get ready quickly and in complete silence, both of them lost in their own minds. They barely talk during their ride to the airport too, hands firmly locked together at the back of the taxi taking them to their parting point, simply exchanging knowing looks and sad smiles.

It's only when they're waiting for Jake's boarding gate to be announced that they fall into conversation again, Amy making  the detective promise he'll send her a text the minute he gets out of his plane in New York and checking he didn't forget anything at his hotel. They share some more joyful chats after that, until  Jake finally has to go through security, somewhere his girlfriend can't follow him.

He kisses her, keeping his forehead resting against hers when they part, eyes half-closed and fingers intertwined together, standing in the middle of the place in silence, not paying attention to the people passing by around them, some of them giving them curious glances.

"It's only a matter of a few months before I come to see you," Amy breaks the moment, reassuring him – and herself in the process.

"And we have our phone numbers now, right?" Jake enters her game. He can feel her nodding, their faces still touching.

Amy  is the first one who draws away to meet his gaze. Despite how hard it is, she knows she has to let him go  _ now _ , otherwise he'll miss his plane.

"See you soon." She smiles at him, inviting him to go, which he eventually does, removing his hands from her grasp. He doesn't try and hide his reluctance as he does, though.

"I'm counting on it," he replies with the same expression, then turns around, reaching security with a heavy heart.

When he looks back one last time, unable not to, he spots Amy staring at him leaving from afar, in the middle of tucking her hair behind both ears at the same time while she does so.

_ "The double-tuck!"  _ he gasps under his breath, his smile only growing wider and his chest suddenly hurting less as he remembers  her roommate's words from his first meeting with Rosa.

_ If she double-tucks, go for it. _

* * *

"Hey, you're okay? Wanna talk about it?" When Amy finally comes back to her apartment at the end of the day, she's met with Rosa and Alicia sitting on the couch and happily talking together, sharing a drink. Seeing her roommate with red puffy eyes,  the other woman  can't help but wonder about her – though she knows what's wrong, having followed  the pair's little dalliance despite herself all week long.

Amy looks up at her friend and studies her for a beat, watching the couple curled up together with envy. Despite her sadness, she manages a smile at them.

"Thanks, but I'd rather be alone right now," she admits, before she makes her way towards her room. Rosa nods in understanding, not trying to stop her, but still tells her before she's out of earshot, "There's a letter that came for you in the mail yesterday."

This makes  Amy  turn around suddenly, frowning as she goes where  Rosa  is pointing and where the letter is lying, and her heart tightens a little more in her chest when she recognises who sent it: Jake. He mentioned having sent her something before he left to meet her and  _ of course _ , it had to arrive home now. She thanks  her roommate as she takes it and goes to her room for good this time.

She hesitates for a minute before opening it, not knowing if it's the right time, but eventually decides she needs to read his words. Maybe it'll help close the hole that formed in her heart after he left a little.

_ Ames _ , it writes,

_ These past months have been quite the crazy months. I'm sorry I left your letters unanswered and made you wonder for so long, but the truth is, I was undercover for a dangerous mission that was made to bring down one of the most powerful drug families in New York and for that, I had to pretend I got fired from the NYPD. _

She reads as he relates the details of his mission, something she already knows, having questioned him about his months of silence while he was there, with her. The same worry she felt when he related the events to her takes over her heart all over again while she discovers those dark moments of his life again – just like it tightens once more in her chest when he reveals again how she helped her go through it.

_I'd like for us to meet – like, for_ _realz_ , it says then, something else she already knew. It's the words written after that, that shakes her up the most. Some declaration coming from deep inside his heart.

_ Because I realised something while I was undercover. I realised something bad could have happened to me, and I could have died without telling you how I felt. And it would have upset me so much if that happened. Because… in truth, I wish something could happen, between us. As in, romantic-stylez. _

_ And I know it can't, because we're living thousands of miles away from each other, and that's just how things are right now, and I'm not asking you to come back to the US like you told me you probably would someday, I don't even know if you feel the same, but I needed you to know that. _

_ So, yeah, about wanting to meet you… see you soon, I hope? _

For a while, Amy remains sitting still at her desk, staring at the messy words in front of her, thinking about what they mean. It's only been a few hours since Jake left, but she already misses him – too much for her own good. She shakes her head, trying to chase her depressing thoughts away, and open her 'Conversations with my Pen Pal Jake Peralta' binder to archive his last letter and move on.

Yet, as soon as she opens it and is faced with all of his letters from the beginning, all filed by order of when they were sent, she can't help but start re-reading them, plunged back into their story.

She's interrupted in her reading when she receives a text on her phone. She looks up, her cheeks covered in salty pearls that fell during that reminiscing time and her heart pounding in her chest, stopping for one full second when she reaches for her mobile and Jake's name appears on her screen, as well as a picture of his plane's wing on the land of JFK's airport.

_ Missing you already _ , the caption says.

That's all  Amy needs to dry her tears and open her laptop, a new determination shining in her eyes.

_ Didn't you say all summer you miss your family and want to go back to the US to get closer to them? He won't live so far away if you move out, then. _

_ I did. I even started looking for some universities that would hire in my department, but I'm still not sure I'm done with France and Paris yet, I still need to think about it… _

_ Well, I guess you just have to figure out which of the two is the more important to you. _

She knows, now.

* * *

"Charles, can we leave this alone and go to dinner already, please?"

It's been a few days since Jake came back from France and even if  he’s managed to avoid spending time outside of work with his friends, wanting to be alone, by telling them he was still jet lagged from his trip and needed some rest, this time he couldn't say no to  his colleague  when he insisted on taking him out. He's started to regret it already, having to listen to Charles's whining about his love story.

Hearing him, he sounds almost as upset as  Jake is  about the outcome of his week spent in Paris.

"This isn't how this was supposed to happen!"  Charles  complains, passing back and forth in  his best friend' s apartment. "You were supposed to come back  _ together _ !"

"Charles…" Jake is about to talk his friend out of his ramblings again with a sigh when he's suddenly cut by his phone ringing inside his pocket. His heart misses a beat in his chest when he sees who's calling, though it quickly turns into worry when he picks up, shushing his partner with a wave of his hand before he has the time to argue. "Ames? Is everything alright? Isn't it like 1 am in Paris?"

_ "Yeah, everything's fine."  _ Her voice fills the room and it makes him smile. God, he missed listening to her.

Of course, they kept in touch during the past days, but haven't had the chance to call each other yet – only reached out through a few texts.

_ "I was going to wait till tomorrow to tell you because it's starting to become official, but I couldn't sleep anyways."  _ She takes him out of his reverie when she goes on speaking, and her words make  Jake  curious – tell him what?! She doesn't waste any more second to share the news in a very excited tone, so much that Jake can easily picture her grin.  _ "I'm working my way to transfer back to the US." _

There's a pause after that, time for it to sink into Jake's brain. "Wh–… what?!" He seems in shock, afraid he didn't understand Amy right.

But then she tells him what he desperately wanted to here ever since they had to say goodbye at this airport, and it's like the world is back to its axis again.

_ "I'm coming back home." _


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so before we start, I just wanna say this is the first time I'm finishing a multichapters fic in English and for Peraltiago and I'm just… so proud of it??? I know it might not be the best and it surely has a lot of flaws but still, I never thought I'd be capable of it, so it's a win for me.
> 
> I'm also a bit sad to say goodbye to a story and universe I've been working on and off for more than a month now. So who knows, maybe one day I'll come back to it with extra scenes to add? Not making any promises here, but we never know.
> 
> Anyways, a huge thank you to the people who read this fic, for the kudos and especially those who took the time to leave comments and tell me what you thought of it here or some of you on Tumblr – it truly means a lot to me <3
> 
> Enjoy this little epilogue/happy ending, I hope you'll like it!!

_ Dear Jake, _

_ I know we decided to stop sending each other letters now that we use so many other ways to communicate but, since it's how our relationship started, I wanted to send you this last one. For old times' sake. _

_ It's really official, now: I just came back from my last day at the university. Which means that in exactly a week (when I'm writing this, at least – by the time you receive this letter, it'll probably only be a matter of a day or two, maybe even just a few hours), I will be back in the US and, more importantly, by your side. _

_ Words cannot express how impatient I am to see you again, and how much I missed you during those few months apart. (I do intend to show you exactly how much as soon as we're together, though… ;)) _

_ I'll see you soon, _

_ –Amy. Xo _

Jake smiles as he reads Amy's words for the umpteenth time ever since he picked up his mail before he left his apartment for the airport earlier that day. He's sitting in a chair the closest he can to the arrival doors, not so patiently waiting for his girlfriend's plane to land and thus for her to appear in front of him. After carefully putting the letter back in his jacket's pocket, he looks up at the time: 5:27 pm.

She's supposed to be here around 6, she informed him through the phone the previous night.  _ Still half an hour to get through before he finally gets to hug and kiss her _ , he thinks. They made it this far – three months of a long-distance relationship; thirty more minutes of being part are nothing in comparison, then. He can easily do it.

"There you are!" A voice behind his back takes him out of his reverie, his heart missing a beat when he hears someone calling for him. In an instant, he's up on his two feet, scanning the room in search of where the sound came from, only to let out a barely-covered slightly disappointed sigh when his eyes meet with his whole squad coming his way with a wave and huge grins on their faces.

"We've been looking for you! Did she arrive yet?!" Charles doesn't wait to ask once they finally reach him. He doesn't have to say it for Jake to understand he's talking about Amy – he bugged him enough with her for the past three months for it to be obvious, the woman's name never leaving his mouth ever since he received  _ the _ 'I'm coming back home' phone call and the other detective overheard it.

"No, she hasn't," Jake simply answers. "Why are you here?"

He studies the group forming in front of him with a raised eyebrow. Even though their company will  _ definitely _ make the wait go faster, he imagined his reunion with his girlfriend to be  _ private _ .

Not for it to happen with all of his friends around, lurking.

"You didn't possibly think we'd miss it, did you? The moment you and your soulmate finally reunite after months?" Charles excitedly exclaims, his smile only growing bigger and brighter as he speaks, his eyes shining. He doesn't say it, but he also can't wait to meet this woman who stole his best friend's heart.

"I have all the rights to be here," Gina adds. "Without me, you guys would have never met. You two owe me big time, girl, and I'm here to make sure you'll never forget."

Jake pouts, but can't respond, cut off by Terry following with his own explanation about his presence. "Terry loves love!" He puts a hand on his detective's shoulder, gently squeezing it.

He doesn't try to argue with his colleagues' comments, simply quietly rolls his eyes while sitting back in his chair, soon mimicked by the rest of his friends.

He can't help but let out a desperate gasp when he sees two other men coming towards them, though, "You even brought Hitchcock and Scully?!"

"Oh no, we bumped into them on our way here," Captain Holt tells him. "We have no idea what they're doing."

All eyes turn to the pair, who simply shrugs in return, exchanging a knowing look. "We're going on a trip together!" they announce, which only startles the others more, but they say nothing.

Light conversations quickly start among the squad once they're all settled down and waiting, sharing some stories. Jake tries to concentrate on their words, but he barely manages to listen to them, his gaze never leaving the doors through which Amy will soon be going through, not wanting to miss her, playing with his hands in more and more nervousness with each new minute passing by.

Finally, right on time, when the clock above them strikes 6 pm, people start to enter and fill the room, sign that a plane just landed. Unable to stay still, Jake stands up again, wiping his hands against his jeans, feeling them starting to get sweaty because of the stress.  _ This is it. _ This is the moment he's been looking for since Amy told him she was moving back to the United States.

(Since he had to leave her behind in a similar airport in Paris, even.)

His heart is pounding so hard in his chest, he can sense it resonating in his ears.

_ "Jake!" _ He hears her before he sees her, her voice immediately bringing him back to the reality of the moment. His eyes quickly find her after that, and though she's surrounded by a whole group of other passengers also coming home to their loved ones or only here for a short visit, for him it's like she's the only one in the room – the only one he notices and cares about, right now, at least.

A small smile spreads across his face as he watches her approaching him. She's even more beautiful than he remembered, something he truly couldn't think would be possible, given how stunning he already thought she was when he first met her. She's rushing towards him without sparing any second, her big suitcase and bag tied on top of it following behind her.

She's quick to leave them behind, though, when she eventually reaches him, so that she can properly curl both of her arms around his neck, immediately bringing him in a kiss without any other word. Jake is a little taken aback at first, but soon his own hands are on her back, pulling her close, the closest he can, lifting her in the air a bit as he does so and kissing her back.

It's such an overwhelming feeling, having her into his embrace again after all these months.

A bit surreal, too, when he dreamt about it so often since his departure from France.

"Hi." She offers him a shy smile when they eventually part to properly look at each other, though still wrapped up in each other, her eyes locking with his, a matching expression glowing inside of them.

"Hi," he answers in a hoarse voice, still catching his breath. He quietly marvels at her for a moment, studying her, printing every detail of her in his mind, one of his hands coming to play with a lock of her newly cut hair. There are so many things they want to tell each other but right now, they're speechless, only staring into the other's gaze while lost in their own happy place.

That is, until someone clearing their throat next to them take them out of their trance. They turn around, only to meet with several pairs of eyes curiously stuck onto them.

"Aren't you gonna introduce us?" Charles impatiently hits Jake in the ribs, nodding with insistence in direction of the woman he's still holding in his arms.

Amy watches them with a frown forming on her forehead, not understanding what's happening, feeling a little nervous with all these strangers staring at her.

"Who are these people?" she discreetly whispers to her boyfriend.

He sighs in return, unwillingly letting go of her. "Amy, these are my friends and colleagues. Guys, I suppose you know who Amy is." He gives everyone an introduction.

"It's so nice to finally meet Jake's soulmate," Charles is the first one who reaches out to her, holding out his hand with a grin so big, it almost becomes scary. "I'm Charles, his best friend."

_ "Charles!"  _ said best friend shouts him a dark glare at his choice of word, but the man only shrugs, not seeing what he said wrong. According to him, Amy  _ is _ his soulmate, after all.

She seems a little disturbed by that but doesn't make any remark, only shakes his hand with a forced polite smile. "It's nice to meet you all too." She looks at everyone surrounding her.

Jake can sense the disappointment in her voice despite her trying to hide it as best as she can – of course, she's thrilled to get to know the important people in the man she's dating's life and  _ truly _ can't wait to learn more about them in the future, maybe befriend them too, but she literally has all the time in the world to do so now that she's back in the country – and even the  _ city _ , the new job she's found being in New York, for good. This moment, otherwise, was supposed to be  _ their _ moment, with Jake.  _ Their _ reunion, after these months spent far away from each other.

He protectively puts an arm around her shoulder to bring her back to him, as if to keep her safe from his friends' questions he's sure will come if he doesn't intervene fast. He feels her immediately relax under his touch, and she offers him a small, grateful smile that he soon replicates when she looks up at him.

"Maybe we could meet with you guys later so that you can all learn to know each other better? Amy needs to unpack her stuff, and I'm sure she's tired from the long flight and time difference, right, babe?" Jake tries to come up with an excuse to get rid of his squad, hoping they'll catch his bait. All that he wins, though, is a squeal Charles can't retain when he hears her call Amy 'babe.'

The detective then lets out in excitement, "Well, we're throwing a surprise party for you at Shaw's tonight!"

Everyone around him sighs, though they had seen that coming. It's not like such a thing was happening for the first time with him.

"Charles doesn't know how to keep a secret," Jake informs Amy, who doesn't really get these reactions, making her chuckle with his explanation. "Great, it's settled, then," he adds at the attention of the others. "We'll see you at the bar later tonight."

Thankfully, they finally get that it's their cue to leave, saying their goodbyes to the couple before joining the exit door.

Once sure they're all alone and out of earshot, Jake turns back to look at Amy, a sheepish smile covering his face. "I'm so sorry about that. I didn't know they'd be here, I swear. And we don't have to go to the party tonight if you don't want to either – I only said that so that they'd leave us alone."

She watches him, a beam coming to curl up the corners of her mouth as she does so, taking both of his hands in hers. "Smart," she laughs at his trick, then falls serious again, her voice soft and reassuring. "But that's okay, don't worry. Your friends all seem really great."

"They are," he confirms with a nod. "But right now I'm happy it's just the two of us again." He leans over, pecking her lips in a sweet kiss, then resting his forehead against hers when he draws back. "I missed you so much. I'm so glad you're here."

"I missed you too." Amy pauses, her mouth still slightly open, as if she wants to add something, something she's been thinking of telling him for quite some time now, but wanted to wait until she had him in front of him to do so. And now she is. She only hesitates for a second before she goes on, then, "I love you."

She can feel Jake's body tense as he freezes, his own mouth half-opening in shock. In his chest, his heart misses a beat.

"Noice. Smort," are his first instinctive words he says back after swallowing a lump in his throat, taken off guard by her confession.

He can't help but curse himself the second he lets them out, though, watching the expression on Amy's face change to a hurtful one, and he feels like a fool – because of course, he loves her too. Probably more than he should, so early in their relationship, and definitely more than he ever did anyone at this point.

Unfortunately, feelings aren't his strongest suit. But he's quick to correct himself, staring at the woman inside his embrace with wonder and  _ love _ in his eyes, and an endearing beam forming on his lips.

"I mean… I love you too."

Amy's face instantly lit up when she hears the words, and soon enough she's reaching up to kiss him again, both of her hands coming to cup his cheeks before they eventually part and one of them finds its rightful place in his as they walk out of the airport and towards their new life – a future spent  _ together _ , with no more ocean or thousands of miles standing in their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Yes, I'll admit it, this last sentence is a super cheesy ending lmao sorry not sorry.)
> 
> But thank you again for reading this fic, and don't hesitate to tell me what you thought of the whole thing, comments are so appreciated and truly make my days!!


	6. Epilogue 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! Seems like I was inspired to write a little bit more for this universe, even if it's like, super short. The idea came into my mind yesterday while I was trying to sleep so… I decided to write it haha.
> 
> Thank you to those who followed this story, I hope you'll like this tiny addition <3

"This is weird."

Amy frowns as she goes through her mail after a long day at work, one particular letter addressed to her catching her attention.

"What's going on, babe?" Jake curiously asks from behind her, sitting on the couch.

"Did you send me a letter?" She shows him the piece of paper she's holding in her hand – an envelope with not only her name on it, but also her  _boyfriend's_ , mentioned as the sender of it.

He lets out a small chuckle at the question, standing up from his spot to get a little closer. "Why would I do that? We're living together. If I want to tell you something, I can _talk_  to you." He reminds her, smiling at the thought.

It's been three years since Amy came back to the United States for good but even after all this time, he still finds it a little surreal, sometimes, that he gets to  _be_  with the love of his life like this – with nothing standing in the way of their romance anymore.

The woman doesn't answer anything. She simply puts her whole attention back on the letter, studying it carefully, lost in her confused thoughts. Jake watches her do, nervously playing with his hands as he offers, "You should open it, y'know, to see what it says."

He tries to sound casual, though can't retain the lump in his throat he has to swallow in the middle of his sentence.

Thankfully, his girlfriend doesn't seem to catch his change of attitude, her eyes still stuck on the envelope as she obliges to his request. She's even more surprised than before when she finds herself in front of just a few words written down in what she immediately recognises as the Detective's messy handwriting.

_Dear Amy,_  she starts reading out loud.

_Will you marry me?_

Her voice stops before the last word, getting stuck in her throat for a second, the meaning of all of this striking her in a wave of shock. When she eventually looks up from the piece of paper to meet Jake's gaze, she finds him on one knee, showing off a shining ring inside a little box, a huge grin curling up the sides of his mouth as he stares back at her.

"Surprise!" he exclaims when he has her full attention.

Her heart is pounding in her chest, and she can feel her eyes starting to water, and for a moment she's unable to let out any sound, the situation sinking onto her –

_Jake is proposing._

"Oh my God, is this really happening?!" is the first coherent thing she manages to say after a short while spent in complete silence, her voice shaking a little in disbelief that her dream's coming true.

"Yes, it's really happening," Jake quickly tells her, his smile broadening as he speaks, soon matched by a small beam of her own, his confirmation enough to reassure her. He then lets out a sigh, taking a deep breath, his eyes lost deep into hers and piercing right through her core before he goes on, "Ames, I love you…"

Follows the most beautiful speech Amy's ever heard in her life, about how important the woman has become to him and how crazy it is that  _one_  letter ended up changing his life completely and for the better, making him meet his soulmate even when living thousands of miles away from each other.

"Amy Santiago," he calls her name after a pause. "Will you marry me?" His eyes are shining with love and excitement as he waits for her answer, and his grin is brighter than she's ever seen.

She doesn't make him wait long, answering him with no doubt and only emotion audible in her voice, barely able to contain the tears from falling down her cheeks now.

"Jake Peralta, I will marry you."

It's all it takes for Jake to stand up and approach his now  _fiancée_  to carefully put the ring on her left finger before kissing her breathlessly, hearts beating fast and in unison in their chests.

"I love you so much," Amy whispers when they part, her hands framing his face, the new little piece of jewelry shining against his skin, both glowing with pure, genuine happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> You can come and find me on Tumblr @b99peraltiago if you want! ;)


End file.
